When I was little I thought the saying was “She’s no shrieking violet.” I thought there was a flower somewhere screaming its head off. Maybe that shrieking violet was being intimidated by some bully, like a hydrangea bush. They look like bullies. Or roses, the hybrid kinds. I bet they’re uptight bitches. And racists. Maybe the shrieking violet was yelling because her naughty petals were being molested.
Then again, I never get sayings right. Two birds in a stoned hand. Six and one half dozen of the other. Shit in one hand and have a feather up your butt. The mouse and the spoon ran away with the typhoon.
I should probably get my hearing checked.