A friend of mine sent me this today (this list may have been around for a while, in which case I'm just falling off the turnip truck). I laughed so hard I just had to share. These are examples of metaphors that were used in actual American high school essays. Being a writer myself I'm kinda jealous I didn't come up with some of these. :biggrin1: ================================ 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 tumble dryer. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldnt. McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper bag filled with vegetable soup. Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze. Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever. He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree. 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 New York at 6:36PM traveling at 55MPH, the other from Philadelphia at 4:19PM at a speed of 35MPH. The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met. 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 red brick wall was the color of a brick-red crayon. Even in his last years, Granddad 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 friend Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for 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. Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter." 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 lamppost. 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 dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium. It was a working class tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with their 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 grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature beef. She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs. Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened. It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall. 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. 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. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River. Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.