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12 More Great Metaphors and Similes
Here are some additional Great Metaphors and Similes... found in previous issues of Evil Pasta:
McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.
Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
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.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
The thunder was ominous sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.
The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr. Pepper can.
The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.
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.
It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever seen before.
The door had been forced, as forced as the dialogue during the interview portion of "Jeopardy!"
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter."
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.
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 young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
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This Month's Articles...
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Letters to Landlords
Please fix our toilet so that we can bathe our children ...and other interesting requests from tenants to landlords.
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