16 Year Old Similes.

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About sixteenish years ago, I cut this out of the local paper. The clipping has been with me on moves from Fresno to Lancaster to San Diego and back to Fresno. The poor piece of newspaper is finally falling apart, so I figured I’d share it with y’all before I ship it to its final resting place, the Fresno Municipal dump.

He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse with out 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 with out one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

McBride fell 10 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.

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 fields like two freight trains, one having left Cleavland at 6:30 pm, traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 pm, at a speed of 35 mph.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

And last but not least, the one that hints at the period when this was published:

They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.

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