Original Bad Prose or Stories!

[SoNotHer]

Bad Love Poem #652

Last Cinco de Mayo,
we didn't need no
supermoon shining on us
for me to pop your pinata
and then pass my Corona,
(after a stellar coronal mass ejection),
and quench your lips dry from tortilla chips
and cock.

This Cinco de Mayo
you got yourself burritoed
by another who you said
liked the way you salsa
more than me.

Happy freakin' Stinko de Bye-bye-o to you.

[*Anya*]

Pain, always here now
Sharp, stabbing, aching, constant
Please leave me: goodbye

[Hollylane]

I missed our bad writing...I think we should all post badly more often. I have to get more practice using poor grammar and punctuation. It is important that I am successful at this. Have I mentioned that dark humor and quirky minds are awesome?

[Truly Scrumptious]

She left her shoes in front of the sign that said “keep off the black rocks” and chuckled a little as she climbed on them defiantly because after all, someone who’d been bitten by both an emu and a dolphin on the same day could hardly be deterred by such humdrum warnings as “sudden high waves” or “potential drowning hazard”.

[Truly Scrumptious]

Attention all bad writers: The deadline for the annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest is June 30, and winners will be announced in early July.

What does it take to enter? Just write the opening sentence to the worst possible novel!

Last year’s overall winner (there are category winners too) was Sue Frodie, with this sentence:

“Cheryl’s mind turned like the vanes of a wind-powered turbine, chopping her sparrow-like thoughts into bloody pieces that fell onto a growing pile of forgotten memories.”

Lovely use of metaphors, don’t you think?


Entries should be sent to: srice@pacbell.net
Details here: http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/

[SoNotHer]

Thank you for this, Miss Tick. We definitely have some contenders in this thread.

Originally Posted by Truly Scrumptious

Attention all bad writers: The deadline for the annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest is June 30, and winners will be announced in early July.

What does it take to enter? Just write the opening sentence to the worst possible novel!

Last year’s overall winner (there are category winners too) was Sue Frodie, with this sentence:

“Cheryl’s mind turned like the vanes of a wind-powered turbine, chopping her sparrow-like thoughts into bloody pieces that fell onto a growing pile of forgotten memories.”

Lovely use of metaphors, don’t you think?


Entries should be sent to: srice@pacbell.net
Details here: http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/

[Hollylane]

The town had been cursed, with a curse that would never go away and could never be chased off. There was an unknown reason for the curse, and no apparent cure for the curse that could not be cured. It was a complete conundrum that perplexed the perpetually confused gals from LA when they arrived in a foreign town, in a foreign country, without a gas station or a pump house, just a dirt town in a dusty landscape, but somehow in this strange land they all spoke another language other than the foreign language of the country they lived in on foreign dirty soil. So, they really hadn't needed to learn to speak a second language, because their first language was the same as these foreigners who apparently were home schooled without any outside contact in a language of another foreign country, for no apparent reason that would make it all clear.

[SoNotHer]

Morning Love Song

"Bitch,
I know you
didn't forget
to put some
Jim Beam
in my coffee!"
a coffee mug shatters
and coffee splatters
down the snarled lip
of black velvet Elvis.

==================================================

Variation on William Carlos Williams

This is just to say
I've eaten everything
in the icebox
(belch)

[Truly Scrumptious]

Variation on the variation

This is just to say
You wouldn’t have known
How sweet or how cold
Those plums were
Had you not eaten them
Plus you finished all the milk
So no Cheerios instead
Forgive you, seriously?

[SoNotHer]

Great pick up and follow through - I'd be in a baton race with you any day, TS :-)

Originally Posted by Truly Scrumptious

Variation on the variation

This is just to say
You wouldn’t have known
How sweet or how cold
Those plums were
Had you not eaten them
Plus you finished all the milk
So no Cheerios instead
Forgive you, seriously?

[Hollylane]

Originally Posted by SoNotHer

Morning Love Song

"Bitch,
I know you
didn't forget
to put some
Jim Beam
in my coffee!"
a coffee mug shatters
and coffee splatters
down the snarled lip
of black velvet Elvis.

==================================================

Variation on William Carlos Williams

This is just to say
I've eaten everything
in the icebox
(belch)

Oh jeez....These are effing hysterical....

Originally Posted by Truly Scrumptious

Variation on the variation

This is just to say
You wouldn’t have known
How sweet or how cold
Those plums were
Had you not eaten them
Plus you finished all the milk
So no Cheerios instead
Forgive you, seriously?

Ha ha ha!

[Hollylane]

Who's smokin'?

It weren't long after
there were peals of loud laughter
I said thong, not bong.

[Truly Scrumptious]

Variation #3

This is just to say
I slept with your friend
The one who sensed my hunger
And brought me breakfast in bed
Not cold plums, but
One perfect peach
Forgive me
It was delicious
Warm
Fuzzy
Soft
The juice running down my chin

[*Anya*]

Originally Posted by Truly Scrumptious

Variation #3

This is just to say
I slept with your friend
The one who sensed my hunger
And brought me breakfast in bed
Not cold plums, but
One perfect peach
Forgive me
It was delicious
Warm
Fuzzy
Soft
The juice running down my chin

Just pure writing talent! Classic!

I enjoy everyone's writing so much!

Thanks Truly, SNH, MT and Holly! Please keep these gems coming

As the spirit moves you, of course

[Cin]

Overreact much?
I eat your plums
You fuck my friend
How is that equitable?
Well never mind she’s dead now
Committed suicide when
I pushed her off a roof
I’m sensing peaches and plums
Have lost their meaning for you
Perhaps a suicide watch is in order
I will show you overreaction.

[Truly Scrumptious]

This is just to say
You’re a fucking idiot
“Peach” was a metaphor
Is that too big a word for you?
I could have said bearded clam
Whisker biscuit
Sticky bun
Butter boat
Crotch cobbler
Twat waffle
Pink taco
Fur burger
You don’t scare me
I got lotsa time
And you got lotsa friends

[Cin]

Originally Posted by Truly Scrumptious

This is just to say
You’re a fucking idiot
“Peach” was a metaphor
Is that too big a word for you?
I could have said bearded clam
Whisker biscuit
Sticky bun
Butter boat
Crotch cobbler
Twat waffle
Pink taco
Fur burger
You don’t scare me
I got lotsa time
And you got lotsa friends

Now that’s funny. I almost choked on the delicious fruit smoothie (sans plums or peaches) you made for breakfast. You win baby you're better at this than me.

[Hollylane]

The two of you rocked my brain this morning. I was laughing so hard I choked on my coffee!

[Cin]

On her way home Emma was running her therapy session over and over in her head. Her counselor, Madison, says nobody can hurt you unless you let them. Emma couldn’t reconcile that bit of news with her life experience up to this point. She didn’t want to be difficult or resistant to therapy or anything like that yet how could she swallow something filled with more holes than your average slice of swiss cheese. And this wasn’t the first time this woman named after the capital of Wisconsin had told her something that made about as much sense as leaving your cat to watch over your tropical fish.

Just a few weeks ago Madison had told Emma it was up to her to clean up the house if it bothered her that it was dirty and that she couldn’t expect her husband, Dillon, to put his glass in the sink unless he wanted to. If it upset Emma to have glasses about the house she was responsible for cleaning them up. That just didn’t seem fair to Emma. Madison explained further that it worked both ways and that Dillon also couldn’t expect Emma to pick up after him or even herself unless Emma wanted to.

Well that just made even less sense. Were they supposed to live in a pigsty with nobody cleaning up nothing unless they felt like it? Who feels like cleaning? Madison had gone on to explain that it is important not to have expectations of others unless there has been a previous arrangement or contract of some kind. Well thought Emma, didn’t we say I do? Isn’t that a contract? Doesn’t that imply somebody is going to clean something at some point?

If Emma accepted what Madison was saying then everything is all about who blinks first. Just leave shit all around and never clean nothing until one of us can’t stand it. Well that was just about the stupidest thing Emma ever heard because for sure it wasn’t going to be Dillon who couldn’t stand it. Yes, but Madison explained, that perhaps it will be Dillon who remarks about the state of the home. And then Emma could explain to him that if he doesn’t like it he needs to clean it himself.

Well something like that had happened this past week and Emma had tried to explain this to Dillon. But Dillon had no interest in listening to this therapy mumbo jumbo as he called it and told Emma she was a filthy pig, a lousy homemaker and a poor excuse for a wife. When Emma relayed what had happen this past week to Madison saying how much Dillon’s words had hurt her, Madison further explained how others can only hurt us if we let them. And how we create the reality we want for ourselves. Madison went on to say that what happens to each person is pretty much what each person makes happen. Emma left Madison’s office completely perplexed that day. This counseling stuff just made no sense.

As Emma arrived home she noticed Dillon’s truck in the driveway. When she walked through the door that entered into her somewhat less than pristine kitchen Emma was instantly aware of a distinct odor. That smells like shit she thought. She looked around and noticed there was manure all over the floor and the walls. She walked into the living room and found her husband smearing what appeared to be shit of some kind over the hardwood floors. “What are you doing”, she screamed at Dillon. “I’m just trying to make it more comfortable for you cause apparently you like living in shit”, explained Dillon.

Emma turned and walked into the bedroom as Dillon continued smearing shit everywhere. She picked up Dillon’s baseball bat that was leaning against the wall and stalked back into the living room. Before Dillon could even see what Emma had planned she smashed him over the head and he crumpled in a heap on the floor. “Well, how about that”, smiled Emma, “who would have thought Dillon wanted me to smash him upside the head.”

[Hollylane]

Originally Posted by Miss Tick

On her way home Emma was running her therapy session over and over in her head. Her counselor, Madison, says nobody can hurt you unless you let them. Emma couldn’t reconcile that bit of news with her life experience up to this point. She didn’t want to be difficult or resistant to therapy or anything like that yet how could she swallow something filled with more holes than your average slice of swiss cheese. And this wasn’t the first time this woman named after the capital of Wisconsin had told her something that made about as much sense as leaving your cat to watch over your tropical fish.

Just a few weeks ago Madison had told Emma it was up to her to clean up the house if it bothered her that it was dirty and that she couldn’t expect her husband, Dillon, to put his glass in the sink unless he wanted to. If it upset Emma to have glasses about the house she was responsible for cleaning them up. That just didn’t seem fair to Emma. Madison explained further that it worked both ways and that Dillon also couldn’t expect Emma to pick up after him or even herself unless Emma wanted to.

Well that just made even less sense. Were they supposed to live in a pigsty with nobody cleaning up nothing unless they felt like it? Who feels like cleaning? Madison had gone on to explain that it is important not to have expectations of others unless there has been a previous arrangement or contract of some kind. Well thought Emma, didn’t we say I do? Isn’t that a contract? Doesn’t that imply somebody is going to clean something at some point?

If Emma accepted what Madison was saying then everything is all about who blinks first. Just leave shit all around and never clean nothing until one of us can’t stand it. Well that was just about the stupidest thing Emma ever heard because for sure it wasn’t going to be Dillon who couldn’t stand it. Yes, but Madison explained, that perhaps it will be Dillon who remarks about the state of the home. And then Emma could explain to him that if he doesn’t like it he needs to clean it himself.

Well something like that had happened this past week and Emma had tried to explain this to Dillon. But Dillon had no interest in listening to this therapy mumbo jumbo as he called it and told Emma she was a filthy pig, a lousy homemaker and a poor excuse for a wife. When Emma relayed what had happen this past week to Madison saying how much Dillon’s words had hurt her, Madison further explained how others can only hurt us if we let them. And how we create the reality we want for ourselves. Madison went on to say that what happens to each person is pretty much what each person makes happen. Emma left Madison’s office completely perplexed that day. This counseling stuff just made no sense.

As Emma arrived home she noticed Dillon’s truck in the driveway. When she walked through the door that entered into her somewhat less than pristine kitchen Emma was instantly aware of a distinct odor. That smells like shit she thought. She looked around and noticed there was manure all over the floor and the walls. She walked into the living room and found her husband smearing what appeared to be shit of some kind over the hardwood floors. “What are you doing”, she screamed at Dillon. “I’m just trying to make it more comfortable for you cause apparently you like living in shit”, explained Dillon.

Emma turned and walked into the bedroom as Dillon continued smearing shit everywhere. She picked up Dillon’s baseball bat that was leaning against the wall and stalked back into the living room. Before Dillon could even see what Emma had planned she smashed him over the head and he crumpled in a heap on the floor. “Well, how about that”, smiled Emma, “who would have thought Dillon wanted me to smash him upside the head.”

Oh dear...I can't stop laughing, and I have an umbilical hernia...This is not going to end well...I just know it...