Chamblee54

Bulwer-Lytton 2013

Posted in Undogegorized by chamblee54 on July 17, 2013

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It is time for the 2013 edition of The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. This is a competition for bad writing. It is not known when the “winners” were announced. It was possibly announced in the dark of night, with hopes that no one would notice. PG has written about TBLFC twice before. If you want the history of this shameful display, you can read one of those posts.

Today, we are going directly into the slush pile. Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives,Georgia State University Library”. Out of kindness to the reader, this is an pruned parcel of pasty pastel prose. There is nobody from Georgia. We can begin with The worst of the worst.

She strutted into my office wearing a dress that clung to her like Saran Wrap to a sloppily butchered pork knuckle, bone and sinew jutting and lurching asymmetrically beneath its folds, the tightness exaggerating the granularity of the suet and causing what little palatable meat there was to sweat, its transparency the thief of imagination. — Chris Wieloch, Brookfield, WI

The Chamblee54 report on TBLFC does not overlook the contestants with funny names. One hopes that these are pen names. Randal Pilz, Milton, FL ~ Thor F. Carden, Madison, TN ~ Helen Grainge, Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario ~ Ward Willats, Felton, CA ~ Jessica Sashihara, Martinsville, NJ ~ Aishia Trueman, Canberra, ACT, Australia ~ Linda Boatright, Omaha, NE ~ Amy Torchinsky, Greensboro, NC ~ Kevin Hogg, Cranbrook, BC ~ Shethra Jones-Hoopes, Conestoga, PA ~ Jackie Fuchs, Los Angeles, CA

As the sun dropped below the horizon, the safari guide confirmed the approaching cape buffaloes were herbivores, which calmed everyone in the group, except for Herb, of course. —
Ron D Smith, Louisville, KY
Even though Letitia had brushed her teeth, Draco could still smell her garlicky breath, but assuming her blood would at least be toxin free, if not particularly appetizing – because of the antibiotic properties of the garlic’s allicin, an organosulfur compound – he gleefully plunged his incisors into her throbbing jugular vein. — Maggie Lyons, Callao, VA
Count Glandula’s castle flickered with eerie lights, where the immortal villain slaked his evil thirst in the dungeons with innocent victims – two moldy old peasants because the virtuous maidens had all been taken by the hot teenaged vampires down the road whose breath wasn’t so icky. —
Janine Beacham, Busselton, WA, Australia

Before they met, his heart was a frozen block of ice, scarred by the skate blades of broken relationships, then she came along and like a beautiful Zamboni flooded his heart with warmth, scraped away the ugly slushy bits, and dumped them in the empty parking lot of his soul. — Howie McLennon, Ottawa, ON
Hotel exhibitionist looking for a voyeur. visiting one night, have the urge for a man/guy that is into peeping thru the window and watching me naked…got to be discreet. handsome/cleancut/bi guy, away from family, tall six ft w/m hwp one eighties 50 years old. must be discreet.
The sharks circled the leaking life raft like a pack of rabid personal-injury attorneys at a five-car pileup, and Clarence could just taste the fear (which tasted like chicken) and wondered morbidly if he too, might taste like chicken. — Wendi Tibbets, San Jose, CA

On their first date he’d asked how much she thought Edgar Allan Poe’s toe nails would sell for on eBay, and on their second he paid for subway fair with nickels he fished out of a fountain, but he was otherwise charming and she thought that they could have a perfectly tolerable life together. —
Jessica Sashihara, Martinsville, NJ
What the Highway Department’s chief IT guy for the new computerized roadway hated most was listening to the ‘smart’ components complain about being mixed with asphalt instead of silicon and made into speed bumps instead of graceful vases, like the one today from chip J176: “I coulda had glass; I coulda been a container; I coulda been some bottle, instead of a bump, which is what I am.” —
Brian Brandt, Lansdale, PA
Niles deeply regretted bringing his own equipment to the company’s annual croquet tournament because those were his fingerprints found on the “blunt instrument” that had caused the fatal depression in his boss’s skull and now here he stood in court accused of murder, yes, murder in the first degree with mallets aforethought. — Linda Boatright, Omaha, NE

Mrs. Irene Bartlett was so taken with the account of the annihilation of Sodom and Gomorrah, and the transformational moment when Lot’s wife was miraculously turned into a pillar of salt, that she became a Shaker. — John Holmes, St. Petersburg, FL
He spotted her as he left the Mudville baseball field, a handsome young woman sipping tea on the front porch swing of her house, and, though the boos and catcalls from today’s game still rang in his ears, the Mighty Casey decided that for the first time in his life he would not at all mind being associated with a swing and a Miss. — Tom Wallace, Columbia, SC
It was a dark and stormy night when, in the course of being snoopy, I happened upon the most extraordinary dog – sitting at an old-school typewriter upon the roof of his doghouse – who grumbled that he was working for peanuts.— Amy Torchinsky, Greensboro, NC

Although it was late at night and the snow was gently falling, Martin, who had gathered the young maidens together in the village church and was now, at the stroke of midnight, leading them across the town square, responded to the town constable’s enquiry as to what he was doing by replying, “I herd the belles on Christmas Day.” — Jim Tweedie, Long Beach, WA
It wasn’t sour grapes – Clementine knew that her parents just plum disapproved of her Kiwi lover; try as she might to explain that the love between the pair was all peachy, she might as well have been comparing apples to oranges, so although she was bananas for him, and the ring was certainly no lemon, she was forced to reply to his “Honey, do you?” with a mournful “You know I just can’t elope.” — Kevin Hogg, Cranbrook, BC
The veterinarian had suggested the tasty yellow fruit as a way to cure the undiagnosed lack of appetite that was ebbing away the very life of his fluffy little friend and Mark was fraught with anguish as he kept wondering, “Will a chick eat a banana?” — Nancy Hoffman, Peaks Island, ME

Betty had eyes that said come here, lips that said kiss me, arms and torso that said hold me all night long, but the rest of her body said, “Fillet me, cover me in cornmeal, and fry me in peanut oil”; romance wasn’t easy for a mermaid. — Jordan Kaderli, Dallas, TX
Derek squeezed through the narrow entrance past irate piles at the bar and pushed deeper into the tight, dark saloon, and brushing aside a stool and settling between ornaments that hung like polyps from the ceiling, he examined the texture of the walls with his fingertips while trying to avoid the gaze of the owner; the perfect bar, he mused, for the socially awkward proctologist. — Max Walker, Bryn Mawr, PA

Daphne had thoroughly researched the subject and concluded that, by all accounts, the medical procedure for reducing the size of her ample derriere was relatively safe but – and it is a big ’but’ – she understood there is always an inherent risk involving any surgery. — Clay Wach, Winnipeg, MB
Dark and stormy was her disposition; her hair cascaded evenly onto her shoulders in torrents – except at intervening occasions, when it was checked by a violent gust of air from a huge blower (for it is in Hollywood that our scene lies), rattling along her blouse top, and fiercely agitating the scanty fabric that struggled against her implants. — Lee Martinson, Yucaipa, CA
The dark and foreboding landscape was littered with crumbling castles, collapsed crypts, and earthworks for forgotten fortresses wherein lurked those most dastardly of degenerates, whose blood curdling cries made the lives of the locals a living hell – the historical reenactment society. —
Ted Downes, Cardiff, UK

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5 Responses

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  1. Shethra Jones-Hoopes said, on July 25, 2013 at 8:34 pm

    I hope you found my entry as entertaining as my name!

  2. Bulwer-Lytton 2014 | Chamblee54 said, on August 10, 2014 at 7:15 am

    […] story from junior high?” Chamblee54 has written about the BW contest in 2010, 2012, and 2013. There is no telling what went on in August 2011. Here is a description of the contest. To […]

  3. […] submit a first sentence, to a terrible novel. Chamblee54 wrote about BLFC in 2012, 2013, 2014, and 2015. The *winner,* and one other featured player, establish a new category this year: […]

  4. […] submit a first sentence, to a terrible novel. Chamblee54 wrote about BLFC in 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, and 2016. Part two of 2017 is forthcoming. As a value added service to the BLFC […]


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