The unconductor

put a suit on him, and BINGO!

 'He moves in a slow measured stride into the lecture hall, his brown herringbone suit fitting loosely on this stooped body.  His greasy balding head is filled with what he knows is the carefully prepared discourse for the day.  As he approaches the podium, he clears his throat timidly and adjusts the horn-rimmed spectacles crookedly perched on the narrow bridge of his nose.

Having completed his preparatory steps, he opens his mouth and begins to speak.  The voice is brown, not a nice deep coffee brown, but rather a dunnish color, flat and devoid of life.  It spills on and on, oozing stickily into the minds of his listeners.  The voice engulfs and stretches seconds into minutes, and minutes into clouds periods of no-time.  The voice is a tragedy, a sickly imitation of normality, a parody of the profession.  Things like this voice should not be allowed to linger on, no matter how important or vital the subject it is slaughtering.  Broken only by the annoyance of an ill-placed 'uh,' it drones on, placing the more somatonic students in a blissful stupor.  When at long last the awful gray noxious voice halts, the listeners are left with a sense of disbelief, and a knowledge of relief to realize they are 50 minutes closer to the end of the year, the end of the voice, the end of the professor who belongs to it.'

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What?: A short descriptive writing piece from 5-minute writing in English Honors class many a moon ago.Somewhere around 1982, when I was 20.

Who? This was a real teacher, and I loathed him.

Impression?:  It's fairly terrible, but some bits are good.  And no, I have no idea if 'somatonic' is a word.  If it isn't, it should be.  Also, I changed a couple of things that are really awful in the original.  BECAUSE I CAN!

Thus endeth the lesson.