"Shit!" Thomas shook the large brass instrument as hard as he could. "Get out!"
Fletcher said something incomprehensible.
"Why did you even get in?" Thomas asked, annoyed. "You're going to make me late for my rehearsal."
Fletcher's voice rang feebly out of the mouthpiece of the tuba.
"I lost a bet, okay? And here we are."
"For god's sake," Thomas said angrily. He shook the tuba violently, and heard a dull clung. The part of Fletcher's body which was visible- his torso and legs (his arms were stuck in the tuba too, above his head)- went limp and Thomas sagged under the weight of the now fully unconscious teleporter. Fletcher had knocked himself out on the inside of the instrument. A second later Thomas screamed and stepped back from the tuba, dropping it. Blood was dripping out of the mouthpiece.
***
"We are gathered here today to moarn the loss of Fletcher Renn, the last teleporter. If only he knew better than to bet against Ghastly. There was no way he could have won... "Heads I win, tails you lose"..."