Mock Epic: "The Locked Sanctuary of Relief"

Note to the reader: The state people who sweep in to give guidance on teaching are always reminding teachers to show students models of what we want them to write. This is easy for the teacher who uses the same dusty lessons year after year. She can pull out the same old student model from 1992. But if a teacher constantly varies writing assignments, as I do, there is no backlog of models. Thus, I make my own! After reading Chaucer's "The Nun's Priest's Tale," a mock epic/beast fable, I assigned my students to write a mock epic. But first, I wrote one of my own, to show the students how to use rhyming couplets, exaggerated language, allusions, a hero with a mission, and an antagonist or obstacle.

On a related note, in my opinion, many of the teachers and administrators at my school are too rigid about refusing to let students use the restroom, even locking it during certain times. After I read this poem to my class, a girl raised her hand and said, "Did you know that a girl here really did wet her pants last week?" No,I hadn't! But read on:

The Locked Sanctuary of Relief

“O Muse! I sing of the devastating pain
that consumed me, searing me atwain,
My body threatened to burst open wide,
exploding across the room, drenching all sides.
Stationed at my desk in Agnew’s English classroom,
I knew I would require relief from the pain very soon.
How I longed to hasten down the 700 hall,
run like Mephastopheles on his way to the Roman Ball,
and like Mephastopheles who staved off the Italian’s gloom,
reach that Place of Everlasting Relief, the restroom.

My body was a water balloon growing large as a globe,
And was stretched tight, ready to implode.
“I need a pass,” I told the teacher,
that Vessel of Wisdom, a fair-minded creature
who searched through the blizzard of papers for the Passbook,
that ticket to relief; that is all it took,
I sprinted down the hallways, when behind me footsteps arose
Mr. D. was running calling, “Young lady, where doest thou goes?”
But I could not stop, could not wait, did not freeze
I could not delay my pilgrimage to that Sanctuary of Relief.
His footsteps gained behind me, his voice yelled,
“Young lady! Stop now!” but I ran as my bladder swelled;
The sweat poured off my forehead, as the distance grew shorter
I knew I had to reach the Sanctuary before Mr. D. could go there.

Suddenly, in front of me, a blue uniform blocked my way,
Uttering “Where might you be traveling on this fine day?”
“Please, please!” I responded. “My pain grows as we speak;
please allow me to get to the Sanctuary of Relief;
the signed pass in my hand is my proof!
Let me go, dear guard, I’m telling the truth!”
We struggled, I was blocked, he tried to hold me back,
Stating, “You bad students are always running amock!”
I feinted around him, shoving my pass into his eyes,
blinding him with the paper because I wouldn’t tell lies,
He stumbled, I tripped over him, falling onto the floor.
O Muse! Must I suffer so just to reach the bathroom door?
In the distance, I could see the magic words, now half gone:
the words which once had read “LADIES,” but O Dawn!
Time and wear had left but the four letters “-- DIES”,
which reflected my devastating pain and my yellow eyes.
I crawled on hands and knees toward that door,
like a hungry buzzard flying towards the spoils of war,
I crawled toward the Sanctuary of Relief,
my knees scraped the floor, my heart full of grief.
Prostrate on the floor, eyes blurry, I reached my arm
Heavenward to grab the handle, sticky as tar,
of the Sanctuary of Relief which would remove my pain
and prevent my dress from receiving a yellow stain.
It resisted my pull! I tugged and tugged!
I pounded on the wood, into which my nails dug and dug!
“O Mercy!” I cried, as the door was locked!
And where was the key? I knocked and knocked
Hoping that some skipping girl would hear my din,
And would open the Sanctuary of Relief from within.

“Young lady!” shouted angry Mr. D.
Having finally rushed the hall and caught up with me;
“Come with me, young lady.” I slowly got up,
Wet with sweat, and tears, and…O Muse! Must I ‘fess up?
The water balloon had burst, overflowst if you will;
My battle was lost and I got detention still.
Hear my word, all you young scholars at Groves
Who would answer Nature’s Call before it grows
Out of control, O Please! hear my fervent plea
and always remember not to have to pee
during school hours; tell Nature not to call
between 7:45 and 2:30, at all. That’s all!
Amen.