Revelation: Marching Season is over. It hurts more than I would have expected.
~~~~~~~~~
There was a click as I shut the case for the last time. I heaved the damn thing back up to its spot on the shelf. I won't have to look at it at all until August. Damn mellophone. I hate it.
"I hate you, you know?" I said bitterly to the closed case. "I always hated you. Just to show you, I'll march trumpet next year. And the new mellophones didn't even come in. I'll show you."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Shut up, mellophone." I turned and walked away.
I came to the band room the next day carrying the scuffed case belonging to my beloved Biff. I took him from his case, gazing down at the lacquered tubing, still halfway in shock that the season was over all ready and we were going to go into concert season.
I looked at the row of flutes in front of me to see the flutie who made the season hell for me sitting in the second-chair spot. She turned around and gave me that smile she has, the one that I know has some meaning, I just don't know what it is. I sighed and smiled back. I couldn't help it. For all she has against her, she does have charisma.
I flipped Biff around to leave a pool of spit (I hear Band Director's voice in my head: IT'S CONDENSATION!) on the carpet. The flutie next to me winced. I glared at him. "Should I have dumped it on your shoe instead?"
"That's disgusting."
"Anything's better than a mellophone."
"I meant you."
"Shut up."
Ah, they joy of concert season. But it means that the dread mellophone is gone. So I am happy.
~~~~~~~~~
There was a click as I shut the case for the last time. I heaved the damn thing back up to its spot on the shelf. I won't have to look at it at all until August. Damn mellophone. I hate it.
"I hate you, you know?" I said bitterly to the closed case. "I always hated you. Just to show you, I'll march trumpet next year. And the new mellophones didn't even come in. I'll show you."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Shut up, mellophone." I turned and walked away.
I came to the band room the next day carrying the scuffed case belonging to my beloved Biff. I took him from his case, gazing down at the lacquered tubing, still halfway in shock that the season was over all ready and we were going to go into concert season.
I looked at the row of flutes in front of me to see the flutie who made the season hell for me sitting in the second-chair spot. She turned around and gave me that smile she has, the one that I know has some meaning, I just don't know what it is. I sighed and smiled back. I couldn't help it. For all she has against her, she does have charisma.
I flipped Biff around to leave a pool of spit (I hear Band Director's voice in my head: IT'S CONDENSATION!) on the carpet. The flutie next to me winced. I glared at him. "Should I have dumped it on your shoe instead?"
"That's disgusting."
"Anything's better than a mellophone."
"I meant you."
"Shut up."
Ah, they joy of concert season. But it means that the dread mellophone is gone. So I am happy.