Writing skills.......

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Sent to me by a member.

 

 

 

Tue, 26 Oct 2004 21:46:02 -0700 (PDT)

S

Subject:Writing skills.......

 

 

 

 

 

Essay Contest

 

The college girl was supposed to write a short story in as few words

as possible for her English class and the instructions were that it

had to include Religion, Sexuality and Mystery.

 

She was the only one who received an A+ and this is what she wrote:

Good God, I'm pregnant, I wonder who did it.

 

 

 

<><><><><>

Analogies and Metaphors

 

These are actual analogies and metaphors found in high school essays.

 

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 dryer without Cling Free.

 

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.

 

She grew on him like E. coli and he was room temperature Canadian beef.

 

She had a deep throaty genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just

before he throws up.

 

Her vocabulary was as bad, as, like, whatever.

 

He was as tall as a six foot three inch tree.

 

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 little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a

bowling ball wouldn't.

 

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a hefty bag filled

with vegetable soup.

 

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.

 

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

 

The hailstones leaped up off the pavement, just like maggots when you

fry them in hot grease.

 

Long separated by cruel fate, the star crossed lovers raced across a

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

resemble Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

 

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

east river.

 

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.

 

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

 

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.

 

" Oh, Jason, take me! " she panted, her breasts heaving like a college

freshman on $1-a-beer night.

 

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 landmine

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 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.

 

Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any

pH cleanser.

 

She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.

 

Her voice had that tense grating quality, like a generation thermal

paper fax machine that needed a band tightening.

 

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to

the wall.

 

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