hail storm

Sir Lancelot was out riding one night and it was storming, rain, wind and hail.

His horse slipped and fell and broke his leg. Sir Lancelot had to leave him there.

On foot, he came to an Inn. He asked the Innkeeper if he had a horse because his mission for the king was very important.

The Innkeeper said, “I’m sorry but the only animal I have is a Great Dane dog.”

Sir Lancelot looked at the dog and after sizing it up, he said, “That is a big dog; I think he could carry me and my mission is very urgent.”

The Innkeeper said, “I’m sorry, Sire I can’t let you take the dog.”

“Don’t you understand, man, how important this mission is?” asked Sir Lancelot.

The Innkeeper told Sir Lancelot, “I wouldn’t send a Knight out on a dog like this.”

~The following are actual winning analogies in the “worst analogies ever written in a high school essay” contest~

They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.

He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty Bag filled with vegetable soup.

From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and “Jeopardy” comes on at 7pm instead of 7:30.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.

Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access
T:\flw.quid55328.com\aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quidaaak/ch@ng by mistake.

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like “Second Tall Man.”

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36pm traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19pm at a speed of 35 mph.

The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr. Pepper can.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without “Cling-Free.”

The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red crayola crayon.

Judi was driving home one night when she was caught in a bad hail storm. The stones were as big as golf balls. Her car was dented pretty bad.

Balking at the price to fix it, Judi was told by the repair shop guy, a smartass by trade, (noticing her bright blonde hair) to blow into the tailpipe REAL HARD when she got home, the dents would pop out.

When she got home she started blowing into the tail pipe, and her blonde girl friend saw her.

“What are you doing?” he friend asked, horrified.

“I’m trying to blow the dents out of the car. Duh!”

“Well, DUH,” Judi’s equally blonde friend said, “you’ve got to roll the windows up FIRST!”