Not William Shakespeare Award Winners: Bad (But Funny!) Analogies

[Riddick]

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

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

She caught his 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.

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

Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.

Her lips were red and full, like tubes of blood drawn by an inattentive phlebotomist.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

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

He was as lame as a duck. Not a metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

He was as bald as one of the Three Stooges, either Curly or Larry, you know, the one who goes 'Woo woo woo'.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.

He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.

She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.

“Oh, John, take me!” she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.

Oooo, he smells bad, she thought, as bad as Calvin Klein’s Obsession would smell if it were called Enema and was made from spoiled Spamburgers instead of natural floral fragrances.

When their encounter was over, she knew if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like “Second Tall Man.”