HUMOR DISCLAIMER: This article is intended as satire and uses the tools of humor, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule in the context of contemporary politics, current trends, recent school events, and other topical issues.
by Nick Stonesifer ’20
After spending any amount of time at Sherwood High School, it’s safe to say that we all go to school in the middle of nowhere. That is until the month of March when the small town of Sandy Spring is put on the map. For two weekends of the year a strange ritual occurs in this quaint little town. Through the trees a tune can be heard, and through the brush a percussion line can be felt in the bones of citizens throughout the DMV.
The two lane road becomes jammed on both sides, as thousands make the pilgrimage to the brick edifice where the music emerges. A line that wraps around the building waits to finally be a part of something great. Their long journey ends with them in the acoustic shrine where the sirens sing, the muses dance, and the Sherwood music department makes an ungodly amount of money.
Sandy Spring has come to rely on Rock ‘n’ Roll Revival for business so much that it has built a whole school around where it is performed each year. In this school, students are bred to eat, sleep, and blame Rock ‘n’ Roll for school mishaps. The school built around the religious site has accrued a mindset that has put Rock ‘n’ Roll above all else. Family? What’s that? Food? Haven’t eaten a home cooked meal in two weeks. Ethics? Sorry! I just robbed a bank to buy my costumes.
For those who were lucky enough to avoid the trap, they spend the months of January to March in mourning for their lost friends. Alone they sit, asking to make plans only to hear: “Sorry, Rock ‘n’ Roll” and “Sorry, can’t make it’s tech week” or my personal favorite “No, I don’t want to hang out with you. Please stop texting me.” The two weekends that follow are chaotic, and leave families in shambles. Police reports pile up on local police desks from concerned parents, worried about their missing children. These children stay missing until the ritual finishes, and the victims within are freed from the tether that seduces them so. But the tragedy of it all is those involved will end up missing their captors, developing some sort of sick Stockholm Syndrome, waiting for the next time they can be abducted.
The weekends finally conclude and Sandy Spring falls silent once more. The dancing, music, and sirens subside and the quiet town of Sandy Spring returns to silence. Businesses pray to the sky above for March again so customers will visit their shops.