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.
(Joseph
Romm, Washington)
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.
(Rich Murphy, Fairfax Station)
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a
bowling ball wouldn't.
(Russell Beland, Springfield)
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty Bag filled
with vegetable soup.
(Paul Sabourin, Silver Spring)
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 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
(Roy Ashley,
Washington)
Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
(Chuck
Smith, Woodbridge)
Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the
center.
(Russell Beland, Springfield)
Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access
T:flw.quid55328.com\aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by
mistake.
(Ken Krattenmaker, Landover Hills)
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
(Jack Bross, Chevy
Chase)
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you
fry them in hot grease.
(Gary F. Hevel, Silver Spring)
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."
(Russell Beland, Springfield)
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.
(Jennifer Hart,
Arlington)
The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr.
on a Dr Pepper can.
(Wayne Goode, Madison, Ala.)
They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that
resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
(Paul Kocak, Syracuse, N.Y.)
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had
also never met.
(Russell Beland, Springfield)
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.
(Barbara Fetherolf, Alexandria)
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like
underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
(Chuck Smith, Woodbridge)
The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.
(Jennifer Frank and Jimmy Pontzer, Washington and Sterling)