I am a freshman at Atascadero High School, and I'm on the colorgaurd team.
You know, it isn't the easiest job in the school, but someone has got to
do it, so I'm glad I'm part of it. I'll bet all of you trumpets and
clarinets think we're all a bunch of airheads. Well, maybe your flag team
is, but I know I'm not! Sure, sometimes we can act pretty stupid, and we
don't always do our routine perfect, but have you ever tried to do what we
can? I don't think you could do half of what that slow chubby girl who
always drops it can! Sure, you have to memorize your music, but your also
babied by Mr. Wallace because he just loves you band kids! But us flag
girls, if we don't do everything exactly right, then off with our heads!
From a personal point of view, I know my bomb toss isn't perfect, and that
my parallel is lopsided, but must you rub it in my face? I work on it night
and day. So if you don't mind, your trombonist is off by a half beat. Yes,
that's right, he played that note on the downbeat. I know you all noticed
it, but you didn't say anything because you didn't want to run through it
again—you're tired of Mr. Wallace screaming over the mega-phone, "Lets go
back one set! From measure 45!" too, aren't you? So if my parallel doesn't
quite make it all around, why do you go telling him? The drummers are the
only cool band members. Make good pillows too. But the berets are itchy.
I'm out.
This isn't ranting, its not even venting. Its fan fiction… I'm a fan of flags.
This isn't ranting, its not even venting. Its fan fiction… I'm a fan of flags.
