Metaphor said dryly, “The Prime Mark and his Chief Lexicographer have found another similarly feathered bird.”
Simile chuckled. “All three are as puffed up as peacocks.”
Alliteration added, “Preening peacocks parading pomp, paltry plumes, pestilence plus piggery—”
Onomatopoeia suddenly sniffed sharply and then said, “Brouhaha.” Remarkably, the sniffing sound seemed to come from his ears.
“Mat,” Alliteration responded brusquely, “you believe a brouhaha to be brewing? You breathed bedlam, brother?”
“Tick. Tock,” replied Onomatopoeia.
“Be blunt, brother. Brief or brawl-brewing?”
“Boom!”
