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Coming up roses

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One dark and stormy night, it was raining cats and dogs. Timmy tried to sleep like a log, but you can’t teach an old dog new tricks: he was a scardy-cat. Trembling like a leaf, the youngster wrapped his mind around a solution. He wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box or the sharpest knife in the drawer. He wasn’t even a rocket scientist. But the wool couldn’t be pulled over his eyes. Any monsters would be waiting under his bed til the cows came home, for Timmy’s bed was as secure as Fort Knox. It was all coming up roses.

(14 cliches! Try and beat that.)

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