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 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.
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.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil,
this plan just might work.
"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.
He was deeply in love when she spoke, he thought he heard bells,
as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
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.
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Grandpa was always going on about the good old days, and the lower
cost of living, in particular.
"When I was a kid, my mom could send me to the store, and I'd
get a salami, two pints of milk, 6 oranges, 2 loaves o' bread,
a magazine, and some new blue jeans... all for a dollar!!"
Then Grandpa said sadly, "You can't DO that anymore..... they got
those darn video cameras everywhere you look."
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