I received an e-mail from "Streak" this morning, it contained a link to the site with the results of a contest held every year with, for it's goal:
The goal of the contest is childishly simple: entrants are challenged to submit bad opening sentences to imaginary novels.
Here is a favorite of mine:
She resolved to end the love affair with Ramon tonight . . . summarily, like Martha Stewart ripping the sand vein out of a shrimp's tail . . . though the term "love affair" now struck her as a ridiculous euphemism . . . not unlike "sand vein," which is after all an intestine, not a vein . . . and that tarry substance inside certainly isn't sand . . . and that brought her back to Ramon.
Now that's litterature!
In the spirit of these awards I challenge any of my readers to post their "Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest" entries for 2005.
I can start, if I must...
With the shade drawn Bruce thought back to a time where the sun felt nice, and the purpose of freon was to cool meat and perishables. Then with a jingle of keys at the door his focus soon turned to the task at hand; He quickly made his way to the bathroom window through which he had entered only minutes before and climbed out. The air conditioner he had uninstalled would not submit to the forceful pulling and would be left behind. Bruce quickly leaned inside and stole all the buttons and dials from the unit and forcefully removed the cord. He walked away from that mortuary, satisfied that the people inside would be slightly uncomfortable for the amount of time they spent in the washroom, if not for the heat, then for the stench that rose from it.
Well that's my stab at it. Plug away folks! For some inspiration I give you "Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest results 2004" Enjoy!
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Once, twice, and then ... thrice was all it took for Mercury to unhook the clasp that held his mother's unwieldy brassiere against his flat, bare chest. Confident that his failure to master this fine motor skill would not deter him tonight, he piled, what seemed to be his entire sock drawer, into the two yawning vessels, slipped on his evening gown, and sauntered slinkily downstairs to the awaiting cab.
"I love you"... The words he had been waiting to hear. He welcomed them with a smile and a tear fell from his eye. He wiped it away and, with half a smile, touched her face. "Thanks". he said, he confirmed his gratitude with a kiss and proceeded to make love to his beautiful mistress. Beep beep beep. As Greg departed the window-side shrubs, he took off his nighvision glasses and wiped a tear from his good eye.
Shoots the las sentence is supposed to be:
As Greg departed the window-side shrubs he removed the now powerless nightvision goggles and wiped a tear from his good eye.
June regretted shoeing her neighbour off the sidewalk in front of her house. Although under the irritating flicker of red and blue lights, and upon further reflection, she realized her error was that she was wearing boots this time, and that made shoeing, for all intents and purposes, booting. But these semantics were pointless, because, coincidentally, a '72 Chevy happened to be passing by, bumpering her neighbour back onto sidewalk in front of her house.
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