The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest (BLFC) is a tongue-in-cheek contest that takes place annually and is sponsored by the English Department of San José State University in San Jose, California. [Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bulwer-Lytton_Fiction_Contest]
So I came up with the idea, with Saaleha, that we should have one of these contests in the blogs. God knows some of us write so terribly at times, so we have the material. The winner will get a special prize that can't be explained in terms of monetary value. Here are a few winners and entries from the 2007 contest to get your brain ticking.
Gerald began--but was interrupted by a piercing whistle which cost him ten percent of his hearing permanently, as it did everyone else in a ten-mile radius of the eruption, not that it mattered much because for them "permanently" meant the next ten minutes or so until buried by searing lava or suffocated by choking ash--to pee.
Federal Way, WA
------------Mary had a little lamb; its fleece was Polartec 200 (thanks to gene splicing, a diet of force-fed petrochemical supplements, and regular dips in an advanced surface fusion polymer), which had the fortunate side effect of rendering it inedible, unlike that other Mary's organic lamb which misbehaved at school and wound up in a lovely Moroccan stew with dried apricots and couscous.
-------------The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, not even a sharp knife, but a dull one from that set of cheap knives you received as a wedding gift in a faux wooden block; the one you told yourself you'd replace, but in the end, forgot about because your husband ran off with another man, that kind of knife.
There was a pregnant pause-- as pregnant as Judith had just told Darren she was (about seven and a half weeks along), which was why there was a pause in the first place.
Santa Ana, CA
------------I was in a back alley in Fiji, fighting desperately and silently for my life, fighting desperately for oxygen, clawing at the calm and almost gentle pressure of the fabric held over my face by implacable, ebony thighs when I realized -- he was killing me softly with his sarong.
-----------Racing through space at unimaginable speeds, Capt. Dimwell could only imagine how fast his spaceship was going.
Rules Addendum: Basically your entry is allowed to be a paragraph of purple prose i.e. features exaggerated sentiment or extravagant and flowery language(Web definition). In the actual competition it has to be a sentence, preferably an intro sentence, but we don't need no stink'n rules, except the plagiarism one.
You may enter by comment or by email to me at email@example.com or Saaleha at firstname.lastname@example.org. Entries will be judged by Saaleha and I. Good Luck!
Till next time in Waseem world.