The Structure of a Metaphor

[INA]

As you say, you are not trying to bowl me out. Nevertheless you are boxing me in.

hehe. I try not to corner feral animals. They tend to pounce. I was trying to get a closer look at your fur.

Imagine you are successful and you get me in a box. What would you then do with me?

They would ask, what is in the box?

And you would answer, it's Victor, it's a boxed Victor. I don't know what to do with him. With Christmas coming up, I might give him, boxed, as a present. Or I might take him up into my treehouse to keep me company when I'm feeling low. Or I might put him in the basket in front of my bike and take him on a ride through the countryside. But I am starting to get used to him. And people are asking why I am always carrying a box around with me. So perhaps I will give him away as a Christmas present. I think he would make a wonderful Christmas present.

*giggle*
I imagine I might take out my boxed friend to pet it from time to time.
I once had a tiny stray kitteh follow me home from school. Silly me, I fed it milk and tried to put it in a nice, padded box, but it wouldn't stay in. It got out and the next day I found it run over in the street.

 

[Mole]

hehe. I try not to corner feral animals. They tend to pounce. I was trying to get a closer look at your fur.
*giggle*
I imagine I might take out my boxed friend to pet it from time to time.
I once had a tiny stray kitteh follow me home from school. Silly me, I fed it milk and tried to put it in a nice, padded box, but it wouldn't stay in. It got out and the next day I found it run over in the street.

Look, you're not gunna bowl me out; you're not gunna box me in; you're gunna run me over in the street.

I'm finding it a little hard to breathe. I look at you with furtive eyes under my helmet at the crease, through a slit at the top of the box, and finally under the wheels of a car.

What extravagant mad dance is this?

What are you not telling me? What secrets are you keeping?

You toy with me and never reveal yourself.

You are not a bowler, you are not a boxer, you are not even a driver.

What are you good for? No, who are you good for?

 

[INA]

Look, you're not gunna bowl me out; you're not gunna box me in; you're gunna run me over in the street.

I'm finding it a little hard to breathe. I look at you with furtive eyes under my helmet at the crease, through a slit at the top of the box, and finally under the wheels of a car.

There there kitteh. I mean no harm.

What extravagant mad dance is this?

What are you not telling me? What secrets are you keeping?

You toy with me and never reveal yourself.

It's a masquerade ball! I thought you liked dancing.

You are not a bowler, you are not a boxer, you are not even a driver.

What are you good for? No, who are you good for?

I dunno. Toying with beasts?

You toy with me and never reveal yourself.

What? Unfair, I say. I just shared my traumatic kitten-death story.