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Ping for later read-the-whole-thing! :)
quite an interesting outlet ;)
Detective Otto Slugbert liked to compare himself to a legendary chess master, but his arch-enemy Bert Boswell often sneered that at best he resembled a merely average player of Mille Bornes (r) or Tri-Ominoes (r). Mary Hickey Kirkersville, OH
While you're following the Bulwer-Lytton contest, don't forget the Obfuscated C contest, Darwin Awards, and the IgNobel Prize - all annual celebrations of the best in creative stupidity.
bump
Gotta love it.
Aww. Mine didn't make it. Here's what I entered:
"I had paused at the door of Pollack's Diner to pick the kraut from my teeth and brush off the cracker crumbs, flip the butt of my fag to the gutter, and light another Camel, jockeying the match which I had struck on the wet back of the matchbook to ignite, to consider the info that Mick Limey had been so niggardly with (not spilling it for the usual sawbuck greaser, but so I wouldn't give his square head a wop), information that gave me a chink in the case but made me froggy and gave me the heebies, when suddenly it struck me that if I wanted to nip in the bud the Sensitivity Trainer serial slayings, I was going to have to quit playing defense, and become totally offensive."
LOL - thanks!
Many thanks. Writing that bad is truly an art form. A bad art form, but an art form. BTT.
Ping (if I'm logged in) and read later
Spur of the moment try #1) - Bob Throckchester, ex-lmberjack exstraordinaire, felt a wave of confusion as he absent-mindedly filled boxes at the Hersheys chocolate factory where he worked with his friend Mort Busterbottom at the end of the assembly line, because while he knew that Mort was a certified fudge packer, he wasn't too sure of himself.