Funny Metaphors Novelas e Histórias

I had to jog to keep up, cursing him in my head with every step. Things like: Lumbering ox, musclebound caveman, stubborn cow, lazy alley cat… I’ve phased out the harsher insults from my vocabulary. My profession doesn’t exactly smile upon foul language. And besides, calling someone “stupid” outright? Technically, even that could be defamation. Even if it’s just in your head. “Dean! I’m tired!” “We’re here already.” “This building? When you said ‘Metro Tower Business Center,’ I imagined something else.”

Sodden rust-red leaves litter the floor beneath the massive orange tree we are under, a few feet from the snack shop. Crisp-clean rain moistened breeze whirls by and around us, until i can practically feel the wetness drip from it. She's funny, and not funny in that 'savage-girl' kind of way, funny in that hilarious way. Bullying people has never been funny to me, you would believe me if you saw me lend Mekus a bloody lip for it in primary four. Her sense of humor just makes it extra hard to be defensive even after she dissected Echinabia, my last-two-pages-comic-hero.

He whispered again and I groaned. "I'm the great evil, you should be the same." I replied. "No way. " He huffed. "Birds of the same feather, flock together." I said and he chuckled. "I'm not a bird, I don't have wings, I don't have two legs, I have four strong ones. " He replied. "I was speaking metaphorically." I rolled my eyes at his dumb display of knowledge. "Next time use something on the same level as me. Don't compare me with a fvcking birds." He rolled his eyes back at me.

Sometimes I let my paranoia get the best of me , this being one of those sometimes. " Oh really? Then why'd you claim to be perving on me?" She interrogated with an icy tone. " It was a figure of speech, Amanda. I never meant for you to take that seriously," " Figure of speech? What the hell kind of figure of speech is that?" " A believe it's a metaphor of some sort?" A hint of doubt laced in my voice. " So acting like a pervert is your idea of a metaphor, is that what you're telling me?"

And that is my dream. Fuck! I'm such an idiot. Who would like to take and keep a shoe? I can't believe myself, that I was so dumbbbbbb that time! I did not expect that phrase will affect my life! my WHOLE FUCKING LIFE! I did not know it was the Fucking Figurative Language! Do you know? Metaphor? I was blind by innocence! Poor me... Poor this handsome me. Didn't know what lies behind that phrase long ago. So when did I?

She was being casual again, like her usual demeanour. I shook my head quickly, still laughing on my face. "No-no, it's just a bit out of sync. It's like being a chef but being afraid of burning." I made an analogy that I wasn't sure the two things could be equated because I couldn't find a suitable simile.

I huffed, crossing my arms. "Well he's hotter than you." She stated as if it explained everything. "And besides, you called him a mosquito!" She exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at me. "It was a metaphor!" "A really pathetic excuse of metaphor." She countered. Realizing there's no winning Allie, I swiftly changed the topic, which should've been the first thing anyone would have talked about. Anyone except Allie. "Fine, fine. You win. Now, is that the only thing you caught on?"

At least I’d won over one person, even if it was for a retarded reason. “Yeah, well those people thought, Why not, I’ve got as much chance as anyone. It might be my big break. Well, that’s you lot. Yes, it would be great if you miraculously had the voice of an angel and never knew it, get to sing karaoke on national TV and win a prize, but it’s not going to happen.” I saw Flossie about to object. “I’m speaking metaphorically. Metaphorically, you’re all tone deaf and want to sing at the Albert Hall. You’re living in a fantasy world.” I realised as I said it that you can’t really make that accusation when you actually are living in a fantasy world.

he lied, the words tumbling out too fast, too defensive. James let out a soft, amused laugh. It felt knowingly mocking. It scraped harshly against John’s nerves. “You see…” James drank from his beer, took a big gulp, his arm muscles flexing. “The refrigerator at the kitchen works as a mirror too.” The side of his lip curled into a powerful smirk. He didn’t need to say much. John already knew what he meant. He saw him. And just like that John had become the deer caught in the damn headlights.

He moved differently here — still controlled, but relaxed, shoulders loose, humor quick to rise. Anna leaned against the counter, chin in hand. “You’re actually good at this.” He looked up from the pan, mock-offended. “Did you think I lived on adrenaline and caffeine?” “Yes,” she said honestly. “And possibly intimidation.” He laughed quietly. “Close. But even wolves need protein.” “Do all your metaphors end with wolves now?” she teased. He glanced at her over the pan. “Only the accurate ones.”