Post by Flo on Aug 10, 2006 16:32:17 GMT -5
Future Novelists... These are actual analogies and metaphors
found in high school essays
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two
other sides gently compressed by a thigh master.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking
alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
He spoke with wisdom that can only come from experience,
like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar
eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and
now goes around the country speaking about the dangers of
looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a
pinhole in it.
She grew on him like E. coli and he was room temperature
Canadian beef.
She had a deep throaty genuine laugh like that sound a dog
makes just before he throws up.
Her vocabulary was as bad, as, like, whatever.
He was a tall as a six foot three inch tree.
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had
disintegrated because of his wife?s infidelity came as a
rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge free
ATM.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the
way a bowling ball wouldn?t.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a hefty
bag filled with vegetable soup.
From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had
an eerie surreal quality, like when you?re on vacation in
another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7 pm instead of 7:30.
Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
The hailstones leaped up off the pavement, just like maggots
when you fry them in hot grease.
Long separated by cruel fate, the star crossed lovers raced
across a grassy field toward each other like two freight
trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at
55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35
mph.
They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket
fences that resemble Nancy Kerrigan?s teeth.
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds
who had also never met.
He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she
was the east river.
Even in his last years, grandpappy had a mind like a steel
trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted
shut.
Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But
unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
Young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not
eating for a while.
"Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like
a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck,
either, but a really duck that was actually lame. Maybe
from stepping on a landmine or something.
The Ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one
slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids with
power tools.
He was deeply in love when she spoke, he thought he heard
bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
She was as easy as the TV guide crossword.
Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to
put in any pH cleanser.
She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing
legs.
Her voice had that tense grating quality, like a generation
thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightening.
It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally
staple it to the wall.
found in high school essays
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two
other sides gently compressed by a thigh master.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking
alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
He spoke with wisdom that can only come from experience,
like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar
eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and
now goes around the country speaking about the dangers of
looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a
pinhole in it.
She grew on him like E. coli and he was room temperature
Canadian beef.
She had a deep throaty genuine laugh like that sound a dog
makes just before he throws up.
Her vocabulary was as bad, as, like, whatever.
He was a tall as a six foot three inch tree.
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had
disintegrated because of his wife?s infidelity came as a
rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge free
ATM.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the
way a bowling ball wouldn?t.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a hefty
bag filled with vegetable soup.
From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had
an eerie surreal quality, like when you?re on vacation in
another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7 pm instead of 7:30.
Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
The hailstones leaped up off the pavement, just like maggots
when you fry them in hot grease.
Long separated by cruel fate, the star crossed lovers raced
across a grassy field toward each other like two freight
trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at
55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35
mph.
They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket
fences that resemble Nancy Kerrigan?s teeth.
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds
who had also never met.
He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she
was the east river.
Even in his last years, grandpappy had a mind like a steel
trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted
shut.
Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But
unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
Young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not
eating for a while.
"Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like
a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck,
either, but a really duck that was actually lame. Maybe
from stepping on a landmine or something.
The Ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one
slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids with
power tools.
He was deeply in love when she spoke, he thought he heard
bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
She was as easy as the TV guide crossword.
Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to
put in any pH cleanser.
She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing
legs.
Her voice had that tense grating quality, like a generation
thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightening.
It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally
staple it to the wall.