342. Washington Post Invitational, Week 705
His heart sank like a rowboat made of fish sticks.
(W.H. Welsh IV, Springfield)
Jim was as nervous as an albino penguin in a bowling alley.
(Barbara Turner, Takoma Park)
His eyes were a deep blue, like the color someone's lips turn when he's had a heart attack in the airport, just before he gets hit with the automatic external defibrillators.
(Anthony Yeznach, Wilsonville, Ore.)
Her mouth was so sensual and delicate you would never use the word "piehole" to describe it.
(Jay Shuck, Minneapolis)
She felt alone and threatened, like a fat cell on a a fashion model's thigh.
(Dennis Lindsay, Seabrook)
As usual, Larry King's questioning was anything but tough -- it was like trying to stone a heretic with Peeps.
(Brendan Beary, Great Mills)
The point of his argument came across about as clearly as the white subtitles in "The March of the Penguins."
(Sue Lin Chong, Baltimore)
The truth was slippery, like a lake trout used as a ping-pong paddle.
(W.H. Welsh IV)
She was as thin as Ann Coulter after a bile-ectomy.
(Jeff Brechlin, Eagan, Minn.)
His mustache looked like a fuzzy caterpillar seeking shade under a big nose.
(Chuck Smith, Woodbridge)
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)
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)
His life had reached a dead end, as if he had Googled "What do i do next?" and retrieved "HTTP Error 503: Service Unavailable."
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.
Her emotions were a mixture of fear and joy, like when you have a really good-looking stalker.
(Kevin Marshall, South Riding)