[ CW ] Use 5 of these terrible analogies in a coherent story

The cabdriver helped Frank through his door and set him down on the couch. Frank had been concentrating hard all the way from the cab and up the stairs of his apartment complex on the fact that he should compensate the cab driver for his service. Now sitting comfortably on the couch, his vision started to fade to black and thoughts of falling asleep began to invade his mind. 
 
 No! He must pay his fare! Frank shook his head to try and clear his vision before reaching for the wallet in his back pocket. On the third attempt, he managed to fish it out, and, with a surprising awareness to the fact he was in no shape to be pulling bills out to count them, he handed the entire wallet over to the what must've been the most patient cabdriver in the entire city. 
 
 The sound of the door closing behind the cabdriver startled him awake. Frank was n't even aware that he had dozed off. He took a moment to ponder the events that had led up to the present vaguely remembering some tequila shots. He had been celebrating something. Something exciting about his new job. He could n't remember the exact details, but he did know one thing. His career was blowing up like a... like a man with a broken metal detector walking through an active minefield. He chuckled at the thought. 
 
 Frank leaned forward to rub his eyes and realized he felt strange. His drunken state did n't feel right. Normally, the room would be spinning for Frank at this point. Instead, everything seemed oddly clear. Other than his own movement being awkward and his struggle to keep his train of thought from derailing, he would have never realized he was drunk. 
 
 He glanced around his living room taking notice of his possessions. There was the coffee table in front of him with its coffee ring stains. A fake plant he would jokingly pretend to water sometimes stood in the corner of the room. His older model tv sat on a stand across the room looking rather dull. A lady holding a microphone sat on a desk near the door. A painting of a sailboat hung on the wall. 
 
 Hmm... one of these things did n't seem right. 
 
 The lady coughed a couple times then took a deep breath leaning into her microphone. When she tried to sing, it sounded like a walrus giving birth to farm equipment. Frank cringed and covered his ears. He felt confused. As confused as a homeless man on house arrest. 
 
 The lady took notice to Frank's obvious discomfort and stopped singing. `` What's wrong, Sugar?'' 
 
 `` I... I do n't understa-'' Suddenly, it clicked. `` This is n't real.'' 
 
 `` What do you mean, Sugar?'' she asked, giving him a funny look. 
 
 `` I'm drunk and must be imagining things. It's basically an illusion and no different than if I were to imagine something else, like Batman riding a flying toaster.'' 
 
 The lady laughed which was about as grating as her singing. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes before it throws up. Frank could n't take it anymore and closed his eyes. After a few minutes, he risked opening them again and glanced over at the desk which had only one object upon it. 
 
 The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.
