-Brought to you by a clarinet and a few mildly disgruntled flutes-
*Band director speaking* "yeah, so never balance a baby on your head. Right? Right."
"Marching box drills? Do you WANT to kill the freshman?" . . . "yes."
"what's this?" *Points to shin* "Your. . . Front leg? No. . .no! Not a thyroid. Uhh. . . I don't know. But use those when you backwards march."
*A random flutist* "Nobody's here to turn me in if I murder you all"
"you told me not to lick your thumb. So I licked your arm."
*again, a flute* "think slow. But fast. So fast."
*band director sashays around* "You're not Madonna. Come on. Nobody marches like that."
*after a horrid first run* "Okay guys. Let's just forget that ever happened"
*band director has a microphone. Screams into it as people walk by the speaker*
"Man, you fainted freshman year. We gotta continue the tradition and let me tell you I just might"
"Mark time, mark!" * At least five freshman trip over each other*
"A LINE. A. Line." *Gestures violently* "Come on, guys!"
"hey guys. Guys. Guy? oh. There's only one of you."
"man, I don't NEED a ligature"
* band director, randomly* "Latin dancing is one of my favorite things!"
"Ya'll sound like THIS!" *band director yodels randomly and quite loudly*
. . . . The first day hasn't even ended yet.