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I was all ready to whine about my day in here. But that's been the norm, as of late, so I think I'll break things up with a little humor! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I've done many things to offend my little LabRat's dignity... I've taken pictures of him in embarassing poses:
I've dyed him unnatural colors:
I've opened a web shop devoted to a photo of his asshole But I've never even considered doing anything like this Until today. Run LabRat. Run. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A man was walking home alone late one night when he hears a....... . . . . . . . . BUMP... . . . . . . . . . . . BUMP... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BUMP... behind him. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Walking faster he looks back, and makes out the image of an upright coffin banging its way down the middle of the street towards him . . . . . . . ... BUMP... . . . . . . . . ...BUMP... . . . . . . . . . ...BUMP... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Terrified, the man begins to run towards his home, the coffin bouncing quickly behind him ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . faster... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . faster... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BUMP... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BUMP.... . . . . . . . BUMP. . . . . . . . . . He runs up to his door, fumbles with his keys, opens the door, rushes in, slams and locks the door behind him. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . However, the coffin crashes through his door, with the lid of the coffin clapping ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . clappity-BUMP... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . clappity-BUMP... . . . . . . . . clappity-BUMP... . . . . . . . . . . clappity-BUMP... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . on the heels of the terrified man.... . . . . . . . . . . . Rushing upstairs to the bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding; his head is reeling; his breath is coming in sobbing gasps. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . With a loud CRASH the coffin breaks down the door. Bumping and clapping towards him. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The man screams and reaches for something, anything ... but all he can find is a bottle of cough syrup! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Desperate, he throws the cough syrup at the coffin ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... the coffin stops ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Personally, I think most of these kids would make terrific writers. 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 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.
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 8. 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.
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 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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2003-01-30 |
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to him.