there is no crying in bassline

The three of us spent an inordinate amount of time together.  It had to be that way, though, and I didn’t mind.  We couldn’t actually function as a whole instrument without each other and the two males that were the tail-end of the bass line.  They would always group us together, despite our completely different personalities, body-types, and ways of handling things.  We housed together, drove to the Fest Grounds together, and spent every waking hour on the pavement practicing the same beats and the same drill over and over again.  But I didn’t mind.  It had to be that way.

Tasia had weak ankles as well as large breasts that made it hard to catch her breath under her harness.  Allison had horrible arches, acne on her chest and back, and a sickness that would come and go.  I had perpetual blisters on each of my toes and the unsightly ability to cry as a result of any type of frustration.

By the end of the summer we somehow acquired each other’s maladies.  We were all crying and had gotten sick some where along the way.  I passed off my blisters on the others.  I went home with a championship ring, but also tan-lines from my ankle braces, acne that didn’t go away for months,  and difficulty breathing in large sets.

Finis Coronat Opus.

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