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| >> Static Item >> Fiction >> Comedy >> ID #640749 |   |
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Mike Analogy, Private Detective The following story has been created using analogies created by high school students. The goal was to string them together using only enough story to make their connections smooth. I hope you enjoy the efforts. A list of the analogies used are at the end of the story. Mike Analogy, Private Detective It was one of those rainy days you wished you were somewhere else when she walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs. Her hair glistened from the rain like nose hair after a sneeze and she caught my 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. What did she want and why did she come into my office? She was the kind of dame that grew on you like a colony of E. coli on British beef at room temperature. She glided across the room with the grace of a human hovercraft going down a beach and I gave her the old once over and noticed she was hairier than a Bolivian nudist colony. Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened, and when she did speak, it was like the mall was open but nobody was shopping. “So what can I do for you, Toots?” I asked innocently. “It’s my grandpa,” she said. “Yeah, what about Grandpa?” I shot back to her, “The old man’s gears slipping?” “No,” she said, “Even in the last few years, Grandpa’s mind is like a steel trap; only one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut.” “That’s kinda normal, isn’t it? I mean, what do you expect?” I said cautiously. “Yeah, I guess so,” she admitted, “But he’s a lame duck.” “Oh, you mean he’s an old politician?” I said trying to anticipate where she was going with this conversation and finding it about as appealing as a poo sandwich, and twice as fruity.” “Oh, not the metaphorical lame duck, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe like from stepping on a land mine or something,” she said. This dame was an enigma and less alert than Bonnie Langford after a nitrous oxide enema, not to mention the fact that she was as appealing as a shaved yak and twice as ugly. She also was dumber than a box of hammers. However, business was bad and I was about as angry as a constipated, hemorrhoidal werewolf with fleas so I wanted to get to the point. “So, cut to the chase, lady, what is the problem with Grandpa?” I said pleading that she would give me something I could sink my teeth into. So she started her sad story. “He is deeply in love with a ballerina. When she speaks, he thinks he hears bells, like she’s a garbage truck reversing. He claims he fell for her when she rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a lamppost. He’s obsessed with her like a horny adolescent rhino on Viagra.” “Have you ever considered that they may be in love?” I interjected. “Yeah, right. She’s as easy as the Daily Star crossword. She’s supposed to be an actor but her performances are as wooden as one of Pinocchio’s farts. Her heart is smaller than Saddam Hussein’s Christmas list and her vocabulary is as bad as, like, whatever.” “You seem to have it in for this lady and your grandpa’s love life. Why not lighten up, Toots?” I tried to mediate her anger. “Well, right now, I feel like I'm about as important as the tallest midget in the circus, and I’m hurt. I’m hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall,” she gushed. I had to do something fast, because this dame was about to go over the deep end, when she pulled out a knife. A knife that was as sharp as the tone used by Glenda Jackson MP in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Robin Cook MP, Leader of the House of Commons, in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the suspension of Keith Vaz MP. It was obvious this was getting serious. She laughed as she played with the knife. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up and then I noticed her artistic sense. Hers was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter." Suddenly she seemed as out of place in my dirty old office as Saddam Hussein at a White House warming party. But we needed to come up with a plan. One that was simple, like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan would have to work. Suddenly there was a flash of lightening and thunder cracked. 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. Then shots rang out, as shots are wont to do, and Grandpa bounded into my office to the chagrin of Toots. As he commandeered a chair and sat down backwards sitting sprattle-legged across it, 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. And I…I was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access T:flw.quid55328. comaaakk/ch@ung but gets T:flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by mistake. This was getting confusing, more confusing than a marriage seminar presented by the Village People. And about as much fun as watching three pink hippos ice skating in full ballerina dress, on the surface of a giant frozen banana. Grandpa had on a chartreuse T-shirt with lime green trousers held up by yellow suspenders. He was campier than Graham Norton at a caravan site for pansies. He spoke about John and Mary, someone from his past. Though in love, John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds that had also never met. Mary bought a house, one in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth. Then one day, long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left York at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Peterborough at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph. But they missed each other and he ran into a red brick wall the color of a brick-red crayon. He leaned across my desk to whisper something to me. He had worse breath than a T-Rex who had just eaten three tons of rotten garlic while having an attack of the runs at the city dump and I was glad it had started to rain again because it gave me an opportunity to turn away. Then it began to hail and the hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease. “So, what about this ballerina actress you’re seeing,” I asked the old man. He said nothing. He was quieter than a dead mime, but he knew that if his life was a movie this girlfriend would be buried in the credits as something like "Second Short Lady." Ignoring my question, he suggested that we go down to Harry’s Bar on the corner. “What about the dame?” I said pointing to Toots. The question came to him as a shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free cash point. “What about her?” he shot back. “Is she going with us?” I asked. “No,” he said, “Guys going to the bar is a working class tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with their power tools.” It sounded good to me, so we walked out the door and left the dame. Grandpa was moving faster than a gerbil on speed. He might even be described as fast as a greased chicken with a stick of dynamite up his butt. He didn’t make the corner turn and went straight out the 12th floor window, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup. And 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 p.m. instead of 7:30. Grandpa was about as athletic as an asthmatic turtle with no legs, so he had no chance to stop as he stumbled toward the window. I felt as dirty as a turd dressed in a gimpy suit for what had happened. My thoughts tumbled in my head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free as I walked back to my office like a little boat gently drifting across a pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't. When I entered the office, for the first time I took a good look at her face. It was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master. Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center and when she spoke, her voice was so grating that it gave Lucifer cold chills. “Grandpa is gone,” I said. What do you mean, gone?” she questioned. “Gone like the politician was gone but unnoticed, like the full stop after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.” She had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while. “Oh, Mike, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a student at ten-cent beer night.” It has been a long night, but not that long. I walked out the door and decided to go look for Grandpa. The Analogies Used 1. He felt as dirty as a turd dressed in a gimpy suit. 2. He was moving faster than a gerbil on speed. 3. She was more alert than Bonnie Langford after a nitrous oxide enema. 4. She was hairier than a Bolivian nudist colony. 5. As athletic as an asthmatic turtle with no legs. 6. He was hornier than an adolescent rhino on Viagra, watching 'Cum on Irene' with the cast of Baywatch. 7. It was smaller than Saddam Hussein’s Christmas list. 8. His acting was as wooden as one of Pinocchio’s farts. 9. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master. 10. McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup. 11. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a tumble dryer. 12. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't. 13. Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center 14. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever. 15. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease. 16. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left York at 6:36p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Peterborough at 4:19p.m.at a speed of 35 mph. 17. The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the full stop after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can. 18. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds that had also never met. 19. 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. 20. The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red crayon. 21. Even in his last years, Grandpa had a mind like a steel trap; only one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut. 22. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do. 23. The plan was simple, like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work. 24. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while. 25. Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a student at a ten-cent beer night. 26. 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. 27. Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter." 28. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up. 29. The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Glenda Jackson MP in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Robin Cook MP, Leader of the House of Commons, in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the suspension of Keith Vaz MP. 30. The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a lamppost. 31. The news came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free cashpoint. 32. It was a working class tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with their power tools. 33. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a dustcart reversing. 34. She was as easy as the Daily Star crossword. 35. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature British beef. 36. She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs. 37. Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened. 38. It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall... 39. I feel like I'm as important as the tallest midget in the circus. 40. He's as fast as a greased chicken with a stick of dynamite up his butt. 41. He was quieter than a dead mime. 42. That would be more confusing than a marriage seminar presented by the Village People. 43. He was as out-of place as Saddam Hussein at a White House warming party. 44. He was dumber than a box of hammers. 45. She was as appealing as a shaved yak and was twice as ugly. 46. This is as fun as watching three pink hippos ice skating in full ballerina dress, on the surface of a giant frozen banana. 47. As appealing as poo sandwiches, and twice as fruity 48. Campier than Graham Norton at a caravan site for pansies. 49. He had worse breath than a T-Rex who had just eaten three tons of rotten garlic while having an attack of the runs at the city dump. 50. Her voice was so grating that it gave Lucifer cold chills. 51. She glided down the beach with the grace of a human hovercraft. 52. Whenever she spoke, it was like the mall was open but nobody was shopping. 53. He was angrier than a constipated, hemorroidal werewolf with fleas. 54. 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. 55. 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. 56. 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 p.m. instead of 7:30. 57. Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze. 58. Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access T:flw.quid55328.comaaakk/ch@ung but gets T:flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by mistake. 59. Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like "Second Tall Man." 60. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
© Copyright 2003 Writer of the Winds (UN: caracas at Writing.Com).
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