Some background: the assignment was to write a creative sketch in the style of Homer, with prize going to the best epic simile.

Further background: We're singing "Glory to God in the Highest" from Handel's Messiah in choir, and the basses (no doubt out of habit formed by singing along with the CD) keep jumping in where they shouldn't. Dr. Erb is our choir director.

Sing, goddess! Sing for Erb with all your might,
for in his sight, yea even you are merely a soprano,
brought down with countless souls unto the depths of
degradation when you flat a soaring E. Sing the day
when Handel's music last proclaimed
it's mighty voice in the great Andrean ranks.
As the puff of windy breath, when sweat rolls down
a migrant worker's back on a scorching August day
while he walks behind his mower, refreshes him
and turns his thoughts from beer and la-z-boy
recliners, then, sudden, tosses back his trucker hat
and trees it in the whipping branches
while the sky to graphite turns and birds return
to gather in the eaves, away from threatened rain
and thunder, it blasts a sudden chill into
his marrow and flashes from the firmament
appear to smite him in his supposed innocent pleasure,
So Erb appeared unto the basses when they
unlicensed sang.

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