Death to similes, motherfuckers! Why do books have to have similes in
them? It's like, "Hey, look, I'm a book, I'm a fictionbook, and you know
because I have similes in me!" Every jagoff wants to whip out the
similes, like a church full of altarmongers swinging wet, measly eels!
Mostly mealy eels! Wet meat eels! Like a bunch of dirty silly eels! The
silly eelskins of the dirty altarboys!
     Like, I am a novelist, and this is my bag of similes. I must be a
novelist, for here is my bag of similes. Whenever anything is like a yat-
ta-ta-taa, then you know you're reading a Novel written by a Novelist. Or
a Novelista.
     Like a dit-duh-duh duh dit-duh duh. The standard rhythms of the rope
wardens. Fuck novels and their fucking similes. Fuck every little simile
ever in a novel. Sitting smiling at the similes. Smiling your simpering
little smile at the similes, like a metaphor twisted up in an impermeable
kite string bag.