Even in his last years, Grandad had a mind like a steel trap, only one
that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this
plan just might work.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a
real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or
something.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg
behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if
she were a truck backing up.
She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword
It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to
the wall.
She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
