Funny Metaphors Novels & Stories

It's a small button nose "How can y-you joke about that r-right now?" "I don't know though. To be honest, I didn't know how I felt at first. I mean, Caramel, you usually squeak like a little mice, then all of a sudden, you're squeaking louder. Like a really angry mice whose cheese was stolen, and I don't know, food is important to me so I really understood how you felt" He stares at me completely lost for a while before he smiles "You always say the silliest things" But I am serious. I know, my metaphor didn't correlate but I'd be angry that way if my mice was stolen.

Of course he didn’t. I busied myself spreading my notes across the table like I was laying out a battle map. Highlighters in every neon shade, sticky tabs protruding like battle flags, margins crammed with annotations in three different colors of ink. “So,” I said, aiming for breezy professionalism, “today we’re tackling metaphor.” He gave me the look he usually reserved for coaches who asked him to run gassers after a win. “Metaphor.”

“To put us in those shapes. Cultists. Elders. Even people who mean well. They like clean stories. They like their heirs easy to understand.” “I know,” she said. “Rowan basically told us our job is to be very annoying metaphors.” “Annoyingly *complicated* metaphors,” he corrected. “Messy. Inconvenient.” “Loud,” she added. He nodded once. “So,” Rin said. “You watch me. I watch you. If either of us starts using the wrong words about ourselves—” “—‘relic,’” Kael said. “‘Weapon,’” she returned.

she giggled at her own joke. Guila’s giggle rippled through the air, a moment of levity amidst the heavy atmosphere. Her joke, bizarre and unexpected, painted a vivid picture in my mind. I couldn’t help but smile at her words, the image she conjured absurdly amusing. It was as if, even in the darkest moments, she managed to find a glimmer of humor, a ray of light that pierced through the shadows.

Sarah stared at me in disbelief for a moment. I grinned and raised my eyebrows, waiting for her to reply. She gave her response in the form of an amused chortle. "That's cute," she said. "Is that like a metaphor or something? Like, you can ... run real fast, right?" "I'll show you," I replied. I looked around for another show-and-tell opportunity. Like clockwork, a staff member walked out of the same door that we'd just come out from. He was a deus ex machina for sure.

his father raised an arm, "it's OK. So you like someone and she doesn't like you back..." "Dad!" Lucas was already regretting why he'd brought that up or was it because he knew his dad was right... "You just gotta get over yourself, son.There's plenty of fish out there in the sea." Shaking his head, Lucas could not believe that his father had actually used a metaphor on him, which led to his response. "Speaking of getting over yourself, you haven't been with someone else since...since Mom." Lucas watched the humor slightly drain out of his father's face.

as we have come this far with the story, there is something that I have felt the need to do. you surely have noticed that some of the words I use are not common or do not exist in the English dictionary. well that's because they're not English (obviously). one could check on G****e or use any other translation software but you might be led astray. not because the translation is wrong (it is sometimes) but because one word could mean different things and most translations don't take metaphor into account.

eat? "Then, the big fish said, 'I... like... to... eat... small... fish... that... talks... slowly.' "After that, the small fish said, 'Oh, no!'" Nobody made a sound after Stella told the joke. Stella also thought that it was kind of a bad joke. So, she coughed and said, "Is it not funny?" Vermont showed his support. "No, it's hilarious." However, Keegan said sarcastically, "Do you mean ridiculous?"

"You don't even know who's who!...yet you're talking about saving your ass because you're too sober to face some stupid wolves!" I laughed slightly now. "Look at you, Colin…” I chuckled. “Look at what you've become..." I pointed. “A weakling in the face of challenges, a cup of coffee constantly lukewarm even in the heat of a thousand suns…a bird with all it's feathers plucked!” I laughed. "A chicken!" The last word suddenly made me hysterical. And I didn't know why. I didn't understand why my laughter increased and grew louder as I faced the sky. I didn't know why I found it funny when I said:

he mocked, a lazy smirk on his face. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let my imagination wander. What would it look like for Paul to stumble and fall? I pictured the pool deck, its slick tiles shiny under the afternoon sun, and imagined him slipping—a comedic ballet of arms flailing in the air—before he plunged into the water. Wouldn't it be just perfect? To my utter disbelief, as if my subconscious had summoned his misfortune directly, Paul lost his footing with an exaggerated yelp and slid clumsily down the tiles. The laughter erupted around me like a wave, a magnificent symphony that made his mishap the highlight of the day.