Posted on 07/17/2004 9:09:20 AM PDT by Xenalyte
Since 1982, the English Department at San Jose State University has sponsored the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, a whimsical literary competition that challenges entrants to compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels. The BLFC was the brainchild (or Rosemary's baby) of Professor Scott Rice, whose graduate school excavations unearthed the source of the line "It was a dark and stormy night." Sentenced to write a seminar paper on a minor Victorian novelist, he chose the man with the funny hyphenated name, Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, who was best known for perpetrating The Last Days of Pompeii, Eugene Aram, Rienzi, The Caxtons, The Coming Race, and--not least--Paul Clifford, whose famous opener has been plagiarized repeatedly by Snoopy.
(Excerpt) Read more at bulwer-lytton.com ...
Disconsolate and mere moments from impact, Iris recounted the misfortunate timing of her brake failure as her faith in advertising left her soul with a whoosh: "I guess Avis doesn't really try harder."
Marissa stirred her latte and rued the fact that her mother still couldn't use the word "myriad" properly in her discourse. Especially today.
"Medic!!!" screamed the dashing young naval officer. Swiss finishing school, Yale and it had all come down to this...a splinter in his pinky in the middle of this oppressive hell that was the 'Nam.
In watermelon sugar the deeds were done, and done again, in watermelon sugar.
Regards, Ivan
"Gummed nearly to death in the maw of his own indecision..."
LOL!!! When you're bad, you're good.
Everyone agreed that Whoopi was never going to graduate from charm school.
With a face like hers, obedience school was the best she could hope for.
It was hot, hotter than anyone expected to be in the Northeast.
"Phil sat at the jolly cafe, solemnly regarding his brioche. The little top-knot always reminded him of Melissa's breasts."
Bwahahahaha!!!
Jake smiled remembering the moment he defaced the Slim
Fast advertisement with a can of spray on hair.
Major Daniels could have understood meeting his demise with hot steel--shot in the chest during a hopeless-but-noble charge--or cold steel--at the end of a bout of cunning swordsmanship--but he had never imagined lukewarm steel. Yet there he lay dying, having been kicked in the head by his trusty steed, Daisy.
"...as her faith in advertising left her soul with a whoosh: "I guess Avis doesn't really try harder."
Hilarious. Thank you for these (you're cranking them out).
Woofi? ;-)
George looked out over the parking lot with a lofty air.
Ouch! That'll teach me to keep my big, fat mouth shut. Well, maybe. :)
"Yes, Yes, I'll be your running mate" I gasped as he dug his shrapnel scarred hands into my Brooks Brothers shirt and I struggled for breath as his Pepto-Bismol pink lips closed in on mine for the kiss of consummation.
--- Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Nobody writes to the Colonel
The nice looking, but obnoxious lawyer, brushed his sandy brown hair to one side and said, "wait, I'm getting a message from the dead little girl"........
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