Millicent, the sophomore cymbal who may or may not have skull tattoos on her arms and 36 copies of Hamlet in her bedroom, was lonely. She sat alone in her lonely one-person dorm room and twiddled with her purple hair extension she’d gotten off Etsy at a 50% discount once. Alone with her band uniform, which she tragically had to return next Saturday. Alone with the homework she should be doing instead of browsing Reddit. Alone with a half-eaten calzone.
She was utterly disgusted with the email she had received last night from the Board of Regents and hoped the scandal didn’t go much deeper than the 118-page PDF of messages. This PDF, of course, took precedence over her homework, and it unfortunately took precedence over practicing cymbals because the band hall was closed until Tuesday. Sighing, she pulled her eyes away from Reddit long enough to check the drumline Discord, which of course was blowing up with memes. Hal, the freshman whomst believed eating tater tots was a religion, was spamming it, of course; he, it seemed, did not understand those memes had been posted several hours ago.
Millicent fiddled with her hair again. She yearned to be practicing T Dubs in the band hall before a mirror, her ear canals jammed with foam maize earplugs and her tennis shoes scrabbling for purchase on the tiled floor. What was the purpose of life if not punk music and T Dubs? But, alas, the band hall was closed, and Commuter South didn’t even run on weekends.
She growled. Why did people do such horrible things in this world? Why couldn’t people remain loyal to their loved ones? It made her angry, which, of course, made her want to play cymbals, which she still couldn’t do because the band hall was closed.
Ugh. She was considering going rogue and practicing T Dubs choreography in her room nonetheless just because something was better than nothing, right? But she’d just eaten half a calzone and planned to finish it, so that probably wasn’t a good idea. Give it thirty minutes to an hour, and the calzone would be digested enough for her to commence the deep knee bends.
Although introverted, she did get lonely from time to time. This was one of those times. She wanted to be back in the Big House in full uniform with her beanie and 100,000 maize-clad Michigan fans screaming as the Wolverines pummeled That Team Down South for the first time in ten years. She wished it was still that day, November 27th. She didn’t want it to already be January. She didn’t want band season to be done.
Sighing, Millicent massaged her hurting heart and took another bite of her calzone.
Author’s Note: What Schlissel did was not OK in any capacity; he was rightfully sacked for abusing his power.