Week 709: A Return Engagement

He mangled his prose the way he mangled his bifocals when they fell in the blender and ruined the margaritas, which he drank anyway, which might have been why he mangled his prose. (Jane Auerbach, Los Angeles)

The baseball flew at his face like a white meteor with red stitching. (Dan Bahls, Brighton, Mass.)

She was jumping up and down laughing hysterically, like a hyena duct-taped to a kangaroo. (Seth Brown, North Adams, Mass.)

Trying to keep down his anger was like trying to stuff Siamese twins into a garbage can: No matter what part you shoved down, some other part popped up. (W.H. Welsh IV)

He knew this argument with his wife was unwinnable, like the war in Iraq, but that's why he couldn't resist one final surge. (Joseph Romm, Washington)

There was something funny about it, like it was the opposite of "The Family Circus." (Russell Beland)

The daylight slowly stole away like a crooked bookkeeper. (Elwood Fitzner, Valley City, N.D.)

His life had reached a dead end, as if he had Googled "What do i do next?" and retrieved "HTTP Error 503: Service Unavailable." (Jay Shuck)

Huck gradually accepts that liberty and self-sacrifice are inseparable, like Paris and Nicole. (Laura McGinnis, Takoma Park)

Bob felt as out of place as a Kotex decal on a NASCAR vehicle. (Brendan Beary)

She had the lilting, country-fried drawl of a senator from New York. (Jay Shuck)

Her pushed-up cleavage reminded him of two Charlie Brown heads. (Randy Lee, Burke)

The dragonfly's wing was as iridescent as the silvery purple/blue streaks in Arby's sliced roast beef. (Phyllis Reinhard, East Fallowfield, Pa.)

Her eyes were entrancing, the pale liquid blue you see in the toilet bowl when the Ty-D-Bol tablet is almost gone. (Dennis Lindsay)

The diamond glistened like the pavement underneath a turkey deep-fryer. (Andrew Hoenig, Rockville)

Dangerous Bob was so dangerous that if you crossed a wolverine with a grizzly bear with a mountain lion with a Siberian tiger, he'd probably kill you because he hates animal experimentation. (Seth Brown)

The law's purpose was inexplicable, like that weird yellow grit on the bottom of English muffins. (Brendan Beary)

There was something appealing about her that he just couldn't put his finger on, unlike that last girl, who smacked him when had put his finger on her appealing part. (Russell Beland)

Her skin was cold and clammy, like a clam that had been stretched over a human body. And not a cooked clam, either. (Andrew Hoenig)

Her emotions were a mixture of fear and joy, like when you have a really good-looking stalker. (Kevin Marshall, South Riding)

We were all alone, just like the characters on that show "Lost" except that we were all alone. (Russell Beland)

Her tears rolled down her face, playing pinball on her zits. (Chuck Smith)

The news hit him hard, like a stack of Sunday Washington Posts thrown from a moving truck, in fact exactly like that. (Drew Bennett, Alexandria)

Next Week: Questionable Journalism, or Jest Ask