Actual Analogies
and Metaphors Found in High School Essays, assembled by the Society for
Scholarly Publishing:
Her face was a
perfect oval, like a circle that had its two 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 of those boxes with a pinhole
in it.
She grew on him
like she was a colony of E-Coli and he was room-temperature 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 little boat
gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
The whole scene
had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and
Jeopardy comes on at
Her hair
glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
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
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
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.
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 a while.
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 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.
She walked into
my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
It hurt the way
your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
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