Actual Analogies and Metaphors Found in
High School Essays
(Frankly, I do not believe these come from
actual high school essays, but I like them anyway. – Wes)
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 the 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 at high schools about the
dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one those boxes with a pinhole in
it.
She grew on
him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room temperature Canadian beef.
She had a
deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws
up.
Her
vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was as
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 7:00 p.m.
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 the 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 resembled 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.
The young
fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for awhile.
"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 real duck that
was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
The knife
was as sharp as the tone used by Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Tex.) in her first
several points of parliamentary procedure made
to Rep. Henry Hyde (R-Ill.) in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on
the impeachment of President William Jefferson Clinton.
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 around 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 tightened.
It hurt the
way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
The
hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot
grease.