John often sets his stuff up first, and then berates the rest of us with showtunes until we capitulate, set up, and play loudly enough to drown him out.
Gotta love the Siberian Tan he's got going there though...

The man Greg is talking to here is Hugh Holmes, aka Professor Harp

We were hoping he would sit in a jam with us, but by this time, John was deeply into the Pirates of Penzance, and Dr. Harp suddenly remembered a root canal appointment.

So, left on his own to begin the nightly battle against Gilbert and Sullivan, Greg plugged in his guitar to try and be the first to drown out John.

Reagan and Timmeh spent time as far from John as possible, romantically watching the Train in the Rain run Mainly on the Plain

She had almost given up her search of the Amazon Rainforest when she saw it!
The Golden Cereal Bowl of Anknahuben!
It would be Hers, Oh Yes!! It would be Hers....

Now they could marry and never need worry about eating raw turnips ever again!

Meanwhile, Greg's guitar simply was not drowning out John's third attempt at performing Flight of the Bumble Bee

Perhaps a different guitar?

It was then that Mike showed up, clearly irritated. He had heard strains of "Beauty and the Beast" from the parking lot.

His Tacky shirt only added to the tension in the room.

Mike berated Greg for failing to stop the never ending Cabaret-de-John

but Greg had had enough, and decided to let
"Captain Volume" give it the old school try.

John was exceedingly pleased with himself, and giggled, chuckled and chortled. Paul soon joined the merriment, playing a descant to John's melody

Michael knew all he could do was play, PLAY! DAMN YOU!
(Reagan wants the world to know that she took this picture)

With his tiny amp set at "11", his tattood non-rippling bicep not rippling, his pick slammed the helpless strings of his second hand guitar "Walter the Guitar"
The air was rent asunder with the wail of "Cinnamon Girl"

In a sudden panic, Paul reached in vain for his volume but...

Greg had already joined Michael in thrashing, gritty, grinding tones of raving Neil Youngy goodness

Timmeh decided he'd had enough, and asked Scotty to beam him up

but then... he saw Her!!
In a dress she once thought too short in the back

but now it would be the only thing keeping Timmeh from running screaming from the deafening wail

But, would it work? Could it? Mike and Greg were now 3 minutes into "Inna Gadda Da Vida" and threatening to move directly into "Black Betty, Wham-A-Lam"

Success!!! How could he leave her behind, or Her Behind? Now seated so roundly, so firmly, so fully packed, yet softly, like a warm steel marshmallow on his lap?

Steve arrived as the duo of Paul and John tried desperately to have the overture to "Godspell" heard over Mike and Greg's incessant thrashing of "Hell's Bells"

reagan clearly feared for her life, but not Roger, who prepared his Trumpet-O-Doom

And Joe proceeded to oil up his Trombone-O- ...
well, not Doom exactly, more like a severe rugburn

The Horns prepared to strike like the teachers union in August, brass bleeted and screeched like a sheep at an all male prison farm, guitars wailed and gnashed teeth, ivory flew faster then on a hot horny african elephant at the height of mating season chasing a Maserati disguised cunningly as a female elephant in heat. Thunder thundered thunderingly, as if caused by thunder... and then?

Silence for a time...
In the end, only John remained on the battlefield. He could no longer hear what he played, but hey, it worked for Beethoven, right?

Then he allowed a moment of silence, but only a moment. Soon he was playing the theme from "The Entertainer", and the world wept.

And then The Valves played for 3 hours and everyone was happy again

The End