Well shoot, I missed out on the San Jose State University's annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest for bad writing. I think I could have done pretty well in this area, here is the winning entry for this year:
Detective Bart Lasiter was in his office studying the light from his one small window falling on his super burrito when the door swung open to reveal a woman whose body said you've had your last burrito for a while, whose face said angels did exist, and whose eyes said she could make you dig your own grave and lick the shovel clean.
If you think that's bad, check out the other ones:
http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/Here's a sampling:
Runner-Up:
She looked at her hands and saw the desiccated skin hanging in Shar-Pei wrinkles, confetti-like freckles, and those dry, dry cuticles--even her Fatale Crimson nail color had faded in the relentless sun to the color of old sirloin--and she vowed if she ever got out of the Sahara alive, she'd never buy polish on sale at Walgreen's again.
Christin Keck
Kent, OH
Sex with Rachel after she turned fifty was like driving the last-place team on the last day of the Iditarod Dog Sled Race, the point no longer the ride but the finish, the difficulty not the speed but keeping all the parts moving in the right direction, not to mention all that irritating barking.
Dan Winters
Los Altos Hills, CA
cindybee's Blog
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