Baking in the sun…
Like only dirt should. In perfect… or at least semi-perfect rows.
Straight, unmoving…
Except maybe for the occasional "Go Away Bee" dance.
Sweat dripping…
Gatorade flowing through their veins.
"Hup hup, Ready kick!" says a shadowy figure in a hat.
They all march into odd formations. S's, Parallelograms…
Squeaks of music spill out,
and the surrounding area is hushed to the sound of Piccolos,
Flutes, Clarinets, Alto Saxophones, Tenor Saxophones, Trumpets,
Melophones, Trombones, Sousaphones, and the Percussion.
*Click click click click boom click boom*
*Honk honkity honk honk hooo-oo-oonk hoooonk!*
they walk along in weird patterns,
making shapes when the shadowy hated figure calls,
"Go Back! First set!"
The kids groan and drag themselves back to an Arch…

This isn't heck. This is Bandcamp.