"All right, everyone," said Desdendelle from the front of the room. "We've got a show tonight and we still can't get this song right. Focus!"

"We've been at this for hours," complained Sergio Turbo. "The violin stings are hurting my fingers."

"Can someone turn my sheet music?" squeaked Tray-Gnome from the middle of the brass coils of his not-squirrel-sized tuba. "I can't reach it."

"This is not what I was promised," said Ivan, at the marimba. "Where are the tight leather pants? Where are the screaming fans?"

"You think tight leather pants just happen?" said Desdendelle. "Not without lots of rehearsal and a catchy hit song that everyone will forget within a week, they don't. Now focus."

"Can I switch my bagpipes for Riese's tambourine?" asked doctorlit.

"No," Des barked. "You switched earlier, and I told you you were stuck with the pipes. Can we just get on with this, guys?"

There was a lot of grumbling and shuffling around. Desdendelle started pondering the merits of a solo career.

Suddenly, from the back corner of the room, a woman spoke up. No one had noticed her until now because she was very quiet. She said, "So... I was going to recommend that someone get on top of the boy band. But you know what they say, 'If you want something done right...'" She she smiled and began working at her buttons. "Who's first?"

The guys in the room looked around at each other, unsure of what to do. This woman looked way too innocent to touch.

It didn't take long for Makari to set the record straight on that count and prove that looks can be deceiving.