Provolone, Toblerone and the Art of Bad Writing

The Bulwer-Lytton contest celebrates intentionally horrible writing. Specifically, entrants are challenged to compose “the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels.” Today, the 2006 winners were announced and, oh my, did they ever produce some horrible prose. But horrible in a highly-entertaining way. Jim Guigli took home the grand prize with a 63-word doozy about a hot dame and a super burrito. My favorite selections, though, were those that tasted of travel writing.

Jeffrey Barnes, for instance, received a dishonorable mention in the adventure category with this first sentence:

Todd languished there, neck deep in the pumpkin-hued Amargosa Desert sand like a long forgotten cupcake in an Easy Bake Oven gone hellishly amok, and it finally made sense . . . “ooohhhh, DEATH Valley.

First prize in the adventure category went to Irene Buttuls, who wrote this gem: 

Christy, lounging in the gondola which slipped smoothly through the enveloping mist had her first inkling that something was afoot as she heard pattering hooves below (for our story is not in Venice but Switzerland with its Provolone and Toblerone) and craning her not unlovely neck she narrowed her eyes at the dozen tiny reindeer, pelting madly down the goat trail.

Bless you, Irene. You had me at the rhyming of Provolone and Toblerone.

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