09-27-2013   Leave a comment

I hate to admit that in my high school days I absolutely hated English class and writing assignments.  The only good thing about that class was the smok’in hot teacher (Ms. Walters) who was much better known for her long legs and colored bra collection. Unfortunately that’s a story for another time.  She attempted to teach us morons grammar and other tools needed to write coherently.  Two of her favorites things were the use of similes and metaphors.  I really never cared much for those exercises and assignments and I’m sure most kids these days feel the same way.   I’ll list the official definitions now and then offer up some actual samples from our current crop of students.  I have to admit that even my first attempts weren’t as bad as some of these. 

* * *

sim·i·le

/ˈsɪməli/  [sim-uh-lee] noun

1. a figure of speech in which two unlike things are explicitly compared, as in “she is like a rose.” Compare metaphor.

2. an instance of such a figure of speech or a use of words exemplifying it.

 

met·a·phor

/ˈmɛtəˌfɔr, -fər/ [met-uh-fawr, -fer] noun

1. a figure of speech in which a term or phrase is applied to something to which it is not literally applicable in order to suggest a resemblance, as in “A mighty fortress is our God.” Compare mixed metaphor, simile ( def 1 ) .

2. something used, or regarded as being used, to represent something else; emblem; symbol.

* * *

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.

Every minute without you feels like 60 seconds.

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.

McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

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.

Even in his last years, Grand Dad 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.

"Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.

I feel much better about my subpar efforts back in the day after reading this collection.  Ms. Walter’s would have been even more unfriendly than usual after reading such drivel and I would have certainly received her favorite punishment.  One hour of detention after school while she strutted her stuff around the room and drove us all crazy.  Man that was one sexy women.  Most of us would have volunteered to stay anyway.  What a punishment.

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