Sunday, May 31, 2009

It was a dark and stormy night...

I love the Bulwer Lytton Bad Fiction contest. For those who haven't heard of it, each entry requires that participants write a single sentence that would serve as the beginning to a really awful book. There are no limits on the number of entries.

Every year, I swear I will write a sentence a week. I maintain this hectic pace for about 2 weeks, then wait 11.5 months and follow-up with a rush job of 2-4 just before the deadline.

Here a couple of the humdingers that were deemed too "good" to win in previous years:

As he freed her from her burden using only his teeth to tear at the device which encased her body, the agonizingly slow progress of which was furthered by his lack of opposable thumbs, Fifi mused at how mightily his victory would be greeted by the others who were plotting the freedom of their imprisoned brethren-–those visionaries in the secret legions of the Miniature Handbag Dog Rebellion.

After listening to the sorceress foretell his ultimate destruction by a newborn, the evil overlord had the woman executed before she could provide the vital clues to identify his foe, thereby invalidating the prophesy which he would have set into motion by seeking to destroy the child in the first place.