December 19, 2012
I looked handsome as a toad. That’s a simile, in case you don’t know. Perhaps I should have said my reflection looked as handsome as a toad, because that would clarify that I was looking in the mirror. Anyways, I digress. I’m not talking about a toad in a children’s movie, where they wear vests and shoes and really do look quite dapper, I’m talking about a grisly, warty, slimy brown toad. My mother had always told me I looked handsome when I was a child. “Georgie,” she’d purr (like a cat), “You look so handsome in your suit and tie.” Well, today I was handsome as a toad.
Maybe it was because I didn’t wear suits and ties anymore. I wore jeans with a sports jersey tucked in them, so that my gut spilled ever so slightly over the top of my jeans. My jeans were well- kept as an orange field whose caretaker had died ten years ago. That was a simile again. I’m getting good at my similes.
I learned about figurative language yesterday. I was at the ice cream shop. No one was there because it was winter. During winter, the ice cream shop is as abandoned as a ski resort is in the summer. I ordered a triple scoop of rocky road. Usually I only order a single scoop, because I need to maintain my figure, but today I was triple stressed, and stress must burn calories, so I got a triple scoop.
Well anyways, I was chatting with the lady who worked behind the counter. She said the sky looked very pretty for a December day, she said it looked like a picture. I was confused, as it didn’t have a frame around it and wasn’t printed on photo paper, and I told her so. She sighed, ever so quietly, like a mouse would sigh, told me it was figurative language, and handed my the receipt. I threw it in the trash, because really, what use is a receipt for ice cream? It’s worthless as money that is so old it doesn’t have any worth anymore.
I shouldn’t have added the part about the receipt. It doesn’t have any relevance to the story.
Anyways, I went home and looked up figurative language on the internet, and then my mind was filled with information like a dog full of waste, ready to spill out on the neighbor's yard. Except it didn’t spill on the neighbor’s yard, it spilled on the ice cream lady. Not the waste, the information I mean. And it spilled on the ice cream lady because I went back and told her everything that I had learned. At the ice cream shop, I mean.
I only got a single scoop. But it was a big single scoop, because those scoopers at the ice cream store are on a mission to make people fat. That’s personification. Anyways, I lick lick licked the ice cream and it slowly diminished to nothing but a soggy cone. I threw out the cone because cones taste like cardboard, and rotten cardboard too. I don’t like cardboard.
I lingered in the shop for a bit longer, trying to decide what to say. I looked at the ice cream lady, and she looked at me, and I looked at her, and she looked at me. Her fuzzy eyebrow lifted up in annoyance. I tried to lift up my eyebrow too, but in the end my face was twitching all over as I tried to summon the strength to make it look like hers. FInally, she opened her mouth, saying:
“Is there something you want to say?”
I looked at her. She looked at me. I was determined to impress the ice cream lady, so I wanted to compliment her. Like a gentleman compliments a lady, except this woman was so ugly, ugly like medusa, that I knew any compliment that I was to give her would be fake. I could say, “Your hair looks quite pretty today, pretty like a flower,” or, “Why, that uniform you are wearing makes your eyes shine, shine like the bumper of a newly polished car.”
I was still looking at her, and the old woman was starting to get uncomfortable. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, the way a little girl does when she stole her sister’s hair brush and the father asks, honey, did you steal Rachel’s hair brush, and she says, of course not daddy, and he says, are you sure Annie, and she says, I’m positive daddy, but the dad knows she’s lying and the girl know’s she’s lying and he grounds her from television and computer for two weeks. Like that.
“You..” I mutter, looking into her eyes. They were green, like a.... like a....
“Look...” I said. The wrinkles on her face sagged, hanging off her bony frame like a.... like a.....
“Like a.....” Her eyes bugged out, they were green. Her face sagged, it was old and ready to fall off her skull. Her arms were flabby and covered in warts. She looked like a.... like a....

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