The Ladies Go to a Ball
All the Clichés
Ms. Philomena Birdwhistle had a bee in her bonnet. She had received an invitation to a grand ball coming up in just two days, but she had nothing to wear. She knew that everyone would be dressed to the nines, and she wanted to look just as lovely. She would just have to burn the candle at both ends and sew herself a gorgeous gown.
She snipped the last thread at the crack of dawn on the day of the grand ball. As she stood to stretch there was a considerable crash! Ms. Birdwhistle’s face went white as a sheet as it began to rain cats and dogs. Quick as a bunny, she leapt into action and called her good friend, Ms. Henrietta Gotobed, to ask for a ride to the ball.
While Ms. Birdwhistle waited for Ms. Gotobed, she gathered up her things; arming herself to the teeth with everything she might need while at the ball. In no time flat, Ms. Birdwhistle climbed in the car. They drove off to the ball, singing along like two young and foolish girls.
Before they got out of the car, Ms. Gotobed caught Ms. Birdwhistle’s arm. “Wait,” she urged, “I need to tell you something before we go in.”
“Well?” Ms. Birdwhistle harumphed, “What is it?”
“I am sure, with every fiber of my being that the person of my dreams is in there, but I don’t know their name! And I don’t want you to dance with them!”
“This is all very silly. Are you playing with a full deck, my dear?”
“Please!” Ms. Gotobed groveled.
“Well, okay. Why don’t you describe this mystery gentleperson to me.”
“Well, they are poor as a church mouse but strong as an ox. They are not beautiful, but they are not as ugly as sin. They are not young, but not as old as dirt.”
“Ms. Gotobed, I declare I should not have let you drive! You are three sheets to the wind! What does any of that mean‽”
Now let’s try this again. Clichés are easy and thinking up your own ways to describe things is hard. But I hope I can show you that it is worth the work.
None of the Clichés
Ms. Philomena Birdwhistle ran around and around her coffee table muttering to herself. She had received an invitation to a grand ball coming up in just two days, but she had nothing to wear. She knew that everyone would be wearing ballgowns and tuxes of the latest fashions, and she wanted to look just as lovely. She plucked out a bolt of pink taffeta and got to work. She cut, she sewed, and she swore through the night. But she did finish.
She snipped the last thread as the navy blue of evening began to brighten into the day of the ball. As she stood to stretch there was a considerable crash! By the light cast by lightening striking close to the house you could see Ms. Birdwhistle’s face blanch. There followed a prodigious portion of precipitation. She hopped up from her seat, hurdled to the phone, and hollered down the line to her good friend, Ms. Henrietta Gotobed, begging for a ride to the ball.
While Ms. Birdwhistle waited for Ms. Gotobed, she gathered up her things; a portable sewing kit in case of emergencies, her favorite lipstick (Devilish Desire), translucent face powder, and her wallet. She stuffed these into her purse just as she saw Ms. Gotobed drive up. Ms. Birdwhistle opened her door and quickly shut closed it behind her. She dashed to the car climbing in the door Ms. Gotobed had just opened. As they motored off to the ball, singing along with radio, time skipped back in the next flash of lightning; their graying hair turned blond, their faces smoothed, and their cheeks pinked.
Before they got out of the car, Ms. Gotobed caught Ms. Birdwhistle’s arm. “Wait,” she urged, “I need to tell you something before we go in.”
“Well?” Ms. Birdwhistle harumphed, “What is it?”
“As sure as I am 62, I know that the person who invades my thoughts, is in there. But I don’t know their name! And I don’t want you to dance with them!”
“This is all very silly. You are acting like a ghost who has lost their sheet!”
“Please!” Ms. Gotobed groveled.
“Well, okay. Why don’t you describe this mystery gentleperson to me.”
“Well, they are likely wearing something ready-to-wear and untailored which will be obvious because they are too muscular for off the rack clothes. They have crinkly smile lines at their eyes and their nose is slightly crooked. They are a little younger than you, and a little older than me.”
“Ms. Gotobed, I declare I should not have let you drive! You are acting like an eleven-year-old with too much sugar! Who in the world are you talking about‽”
Which version did you like better?
