"LOOK OUT! IT'S THE EX-GENERATES!" I heard a girl yell in terror. Dumbfounded, I looked around. My new classmates were running in terror.

"What's going on? Who are the ex-generates?" I asked a fleeing teen.

"You're the new kid, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"The ex-generates are this band of really old guys who drive around in a jalopy blaring Glenn Miller music. Anyway, they take pleasure in terrorizing teenagers." Then, from a distance, a faint whisper of music was heard.

"RUN MAN! HERE THEY COME!" my informant yelled. The jalopy was on the crowd in seconds. The carnage was horrible. Teenagers were lying on the ground in pain. I noticed my informant was looking for a place to hide, when a sweet looking old lady emerged from the shadows.

"Take this, wuss!" she yelled as she bashed his head with a cane.

I started to turn and run for home when the world started swirling and I went down. Before I lost consciousness, I looked up at my attacker.

"Grandpa?!" 1