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From The Oregonian
Here at The Edge, we love bad writing, which is why we love the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, which challenges writers to pen the world's worst first line to a novel. And while the winners are always hilarious, they usually tend to be a bit long-winded. Kind of like this intro. Well, this really bothered some guy on the Internet, so he started his own contest called The Lyttle Lytton Contest, in which the bad writing is just as bad, but twice as short. See?
--John, surfing, said to his mother, surfing beside him, "How do you like surfing?"
--Man oh man, you're gonna like this book; boy howdy.
--Dr. Metzger turned to greet his new patient, blithely unaware he would soon become a member of a secret brotherhood as old as urology itself.
--"Joy is contagious," he said, peering into the microscope.
--Her ovine familiar baaahed angrily.
--The spaceship was crashing, but, more importantly, John and Greta were having sex in it.
--A lone testicle lay in a barren field.
--Before I got hit by that ole bus, I never used to think much, but now I think PLENTY.
--I am pleased to announce that, although attitudes have improved immensely, the beatings will continue.
--"Son, defenestration is your only option."
--Gordon strove to be a nice pimp.
And then this same guy on the Internet had a contest for the worst FINAL sentence of a novel.
Our favorite entries:
--"Lawd a'mighty," howled Caleb, to the consternation of those few who still remained in the helpless, drifting lifeboat, "some of y'all are lookin' mighty tasty!"
--And that was it, more or less, except for dear Gwendolyn, who had a little trouble with syphilis for some time after- ward.
--Bound, blindfolded and buttered, at last Leopold knew the semblance of peace.
--But Gran was once again lost in quiet reminiscence, or perhaps her epilepsy.
--While defeating Mutantis, Gyroman lost everything, but learned that sometimes the clothes do make the man.
--Maria's flossing was now complete.
Here at The Edge, we love bad writing, which is why we love the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, which challenges writers to pen the world's worst first line to a novel. And while the winners are always hilarious, they usually tend to be a bit long-winded. Kind of like this intro. Well, this really bothered some guy on the Internet, so he started his own contest called The Lyttle Lytton Contest, in which the bad writing is just as bad, but twice as short. See?
--John, surfing, said to his mother, surfing beside him, "How do you like surfing?"
--Man oh man, you're gonna like this book; boy howdy.
--Dr. Metzger turned to greet his new patient, blithely unaware he would soon become a member of a secret brotherhood as old as urology itself.
--"Joy is contagious," he said, peering into the microscope.
--Her ovine familiar baaahed angrily.
--The spaceship was crashing, but, more importantly, John and Greta were having sex in it.
--A lone testicle lay in a barren field.
--Before I got hit by that ole bus, I never used to think much, but now I think PLENTY.
--I am pleased to announce that, although attitudes have improved immensely, the beatings will continue.
--"Son, defenestration is your only option."
--Gordon strove to be a nice pimp.
And then this same guy on the Internet had a contest for the worst FINAL sentence of a novel.
Our favorite entries:
--"Lawd a'mighty," howled Caleb, to the consternation of those few who still remained in the helpless, drifting lifeboat, "some of y'all are lookin' mighty tasty!"
--And that was it, more or less, except for dear Gwendolyn, who had a little trouble with syphilis for some time after- ward.
--Bound, blindfolded and buttered, at last Leopold knew the semblance of peace.
--But Gran was once again lost in quiet reminiscence, or perhaps her epilepsy.
--While defeating Mutantis, Gyroman lost everything, but learned that sometimes the clothes do make the man.
--Maria's flossing was now complete.