"Bastards," muttered the Calvary Colonel, watching the teaming mass of Native American warriors, as he gathered arrows from the ground before him, knowing that in a few score years, the arrowheads would be valuable (to his heirs) as documented and valued in the authoritative volume of "Wealth and Antiquities", published in 1978, and valuing these particular Arapaho flint arrowheads at about $78.20 each (if in pristine condition), and he noted that the Indian swarm seemed like some living thing, like a mass of red fire ants that had become resistant to all known insecticides, due to overuse and the tendency of ants who had the resistant gene to pass on the genetic sturdiness to their progeny, "....bastards, all."
Romantic Fiction Entry:
His tongue prowled around my trembling mouth like a cop patrolling a bad neighborhood, ever-watchful for the shady characters that lurked in the shadows, and my heart leaped, excited, up my throat — causing both a cardiac fibrillation event and a nasty choking spell.
Reading the old winners is a hoot. Cheers me up, every time.
That’s awesome. But I can only respond with the opening line of the fantasy novel I’m currently working on.
“A tail swished sensuously into a hole that grew smaller as the tail did but closed tightly on the frilled scaly tip.”
I swear Free Republic needs a ‘like’ button.
Does the contest have a special award for Political Correctness Lampooning?
That’s awesome. But I can only respond with the opening line of the fantasy novel I’m currently working on.
“A tail swished sensuously into a hole that grew smaller as the tail did but closed tightly on the frilled scaly tip.”
“Barry rolled over, swatting the Blackberry across the room as he awoke, it’s dulcet microspeaker tones squaking yet another mangled Muzak version of “The Internationalle” and thinking he’d have to get Val to change that prior to the start of his third term of office.”
ping
“Connections” needs another writer.
Gnip
Ronald awoke because he was shaking. The shakes were worse today and he felt cold.
Weak and cold and shaky but somehow... better. His mouth was dry.
He sat up in the dim light and stretched, noticing clearly perhaps for the first time his shabby
surroundings. A storeroom behind the workplace, a pallet made of collapsed cardboard boxes and a pillow of plastic packing material. The cramps doubled him over.
He rose and shuffled to the sink and drank from the tap as he had done for the past
three days. Tapwater had been his only nourishment, his comfort and salvation.
His only hope of sanity and freedom.
“We should have known we were on the road to victory as Presiden Bhoner snipped the red ribbon, abolishing the last of the hated border crossings and secured his place in history as the greatest Democrat president of the 21st century, yet we sat in stunned awe at the eloquence with which he ushered in the new age.”
“Karl popped the top on another Lone Star as the smell of pit BBQ’s pork spread through the air, slightly clouding his vision and leaving him wondering if it was the smoke or the twitter message he viewed on his laptop from John discussing the latest success on the merger with the DNC that had brought a tear to his eye.”
Having donned his crimson plaid pajamas, gingerly wiping his true black framed glasses, stirring his tepid cup of cocoa with his pinky which he sucked clean as he fingered his keyboard gleefully logging on to healthcare.gov, he tittered orgasmically and waited for a climax that never came.
You have no chance.
Your brilliant use of the comma (”,”) and distaste for the period (”.”) will allow the judges to immediately identify you as an obvious professional, trained in one of the great Universities, a seasoned writer, almost certainly a good parent, schooled in the details of English grammar and very likely the author of one or more Best Sellers.
In other words you are not going to get away with it. But, nice, try, anyway.
Calvary?
“Mitch shook with blindfolded anticipation as the restraints cut into his wrists, yet he wondered if the $5,000 he’d paid to Spitzer’s Dom was worth it as she whispered the hated words seductively into his ear....”Conservative”.
The lovely woman-child Kaa was mercilessly chained to the cruel post of the warrior-chief Beast, with his barbarous tribe now stacking wood at her nubile feet, when the strong, clear voice of the poetic and heroic Handsomas roared, "Flick your Bic, crisp that chick, and you'll feel my steel through your last meal."
--Steven Garman, Pensacola, Florida (1984 Winner)
Is that you Ahrnald?
"The sun oozed over the horizon, shoved aside darkness, crept along the greensward, and, with sickly fingers, pushed through the castle window, revealing the pillaged princess, hand at throat, crown asunder, gaping in frenzied horror at the sated, sodden amphibian lying beside her, disbelieving the magnitude of the frog's deception, screaming madly, "You lied!"
-- Apparent 1983 runner up but above web site admits to losing the entries so no attribution!
Cannot find the author but as far as the lead line for a bodice-ripper, WOW!
Entries due same date as your Tax Return, just don't send them to the same place OR (God forfend) misaddress the envelopes! IRS has no sense of humor (surgically removed) and would be likely to assess severe penalties for you offending their propriety!
Bill was saddened by the direction the HR’s board review was going, and a little nervous, yet he remained confident that in the end, the facts would show that despite his young intern’s claims to the contrary, yes, it does look remarkably like a Telefunken U47 and his job would remain secure because truth is always the best defense.
The clammy feeling across her shoulders in the night woke her yet again just as the image shimmered over the bed. Oh, to believe it were but a dream! But her eyes had opened, and there he was, again, the image of that damned ambassador’s face, undulating as if made of smoke, and she pulled the blanket over her ears before the sound could be heard. Yet the moan came right through her fists clenching the covers over her ears as if not muted in the least.
“Help me, help meeee, HELP MEEE,” the image pleaded, growing louder and more desperate. She shook with fear.
“It’s happening again! Make it stop!” Her trembles turned to spastic thrashing. Yet she heard the moans and even with now clenched eyes, saw the face, so pale and grey.
Her movements had awakened her lover. “Oh, Hillary, go back to sleep. It’s just that stupid dream again.” Huma brushed back from her face a mass of long tangled black hair. “Don’t let it get to you. At this point, what difference does it even make?”
Sadly, Johnathan yawned and realized that his dancing with Miley Cyrus instead of finishing his drama had only validated the old saw saw that, “All twerk and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”