The caption head keeps saying “one more time”. You’ve lost track of how many times he’s said it. The sun is rising.
The bus pulls into the housing site. The drum majors get off to go find the sleeping areas. They do not return.
This gym seems familiar. They all seem familiar. You can’t tell them apart anymore.
You enter the field. It is silent. There is a crowd, but no noise. There is no announcement. The drum major counts off.
Your tech tells you to go touch the fence. You keep running. You never find the fence.
The water doesn’t taste right. It is dark and tastes gamey. You think you see something move in your jug.
The vets say that you won’t hurt after three weeks. They were right. You can’t feel anything in general now.
Staff says you should get five hours of floor time, but as soon as you close your eyes, the gym lights come on.
The gym lights are motion sensored. They come on and you sit up. No one is moving.
Things disappear in the bays. Then under your seat. You worry that what’s sitting in the seat is next.
You feel your seat partner lean against you in the night. You look over and they are asleep in the aisle. You close your eyes and don’t open them until you arrive at the housing site.
The showers are dimly lit. You all stick to one side because you swear something is on the corner.
You have pasta for dinner, but it tastes like pb&j. Your cereal in the mornings tastes like pb&j. Your water tastes like pb&j. Everything tastes like pb&j.
“What state are we in?” No one can answer. No one knows. Staff won’t tell anyone.
A cloud is almost covering the sun. It does not move for the entire block.
A field judge is in front of you. He follows you for the whole show. He has a tape recorder, but doesn’t say anything into it.
You get home. No one recognizes you. You can no longer sleep on your bed. You still hear the distant clicking of a metronome everywhere you go.
you smell like sunscreen. your clothes, your hair, your entire being is completely soaked through with sunscreen. you get a cut and all you see is spf 110.
astroturf is in your shoes. astroturf is in your house. your lunch is rubbery and tough and you realize astroturf is in your food.
you’ve been doing this set over and over and over and over and over and over and over. in your sleep your muscles jerk and you wake up on your dot, marking time to a tempo deep-set into your psyche.
sunscreen only works when you believe in it. if you stop thinking about sunscreen for one minute your skin burns to a shiny red crisp.
your nose is peeling. your arms are peeling. your back is peeling. your entire body is peeling. you pick off enough that it gets up and starts doing a runthrough of the show.
it’s 105 outside. it’s 115 outside. it’s 150 outside and birds are falling dead from the trees.
you burn your lips. you burn your hands. you take a sip of water and burn your throat.
the colorguard hold flags and guns and swords, marching like soldiers to a doomed war, feet pointed and teeth bared and counting loud enough to make the ground shake.
when it’s over you’re left with the faint scent of sunscreen clinging to you and salty sweat dripping into your eyes, the distant sound of a gock block occupying your thoughts.
Black Panther is now at $899.9 million at the box office.
update: $909.8 million
update: $915.1 million
update: $932 million. Now being the 44th highest grossing film.
update: $940.4 million. Now being the 41st highest grossing film. Beating out Jumanji: Welcome to The Jungle, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix & Finding Nemo.
radiantrice asked: hi could you write "Liu 22" in the barbie font but purple? thank you c:
