The word "Prime", unedited writing, mining for interesting metaphors and such, 10 minutes, go!.....
He was as primed for action as a lawn mower on a warm Saturday morning. Red rubber button cover protruding like a bulbous clown nose. Freshly brewed coffee wafted by his nostrils like unleaded exhaust fumes from a sputtering grass chopping machine. It was as if his hands were on the gear handle, his mind strolling back and forth across the list of items he must mow through to feel a sense of accomplishment that day. He filled his cup with java fuel, brought it to his lips, and felt the warm cream and sugar and coffee mixture fill his empty tank. First three sips like a weed-eater string pull with the choke on.
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