[196] in Humor

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HUMOR: Bulwer-Lytton entrees

daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (abennett@MIT.EDU)
Wed Apr 13 09:38:05 1994

From: abennett@MIT.EDU
To: humor@MIT.EDU
Date: Wed, 13 Apr 94 09:36:30 EDT


Date: Tue, 12 Apr 94 12:56:39 PDT
From: ckleinja@Novell.COM (Connie Kleinjans)

You all know about the Bulwer-Lytton contest?  It's for the worst 
opening line to a non-existent novel.

From: "Marc Kenig" <marc_kenig@blyth.com>

FWD>More Bulwer-Lytton entries

    Jimmy was a very smart boy, and he enjoyed church very much,
    but when the choir began singing "Gladly the Cross I'd Bear,"
    he didn't concentrate on singing the song as he should have;
    instead, he wondered why Gladly didn't go to an opthalmologist
    and why they were singing a song in church about a woodland
    animal with an eye problem.
          -- Timothy House  (Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest entry)

    The horror! -- ah, the horror! -- of it all envelops me e'en
    now in the gelid amnion from which no natural force may e'er
    propel me, claw me, drag me forth, so enervating was that
    unholy power which laid its claim to my very soul and to all
    things of the earth my outer husk might touch; so puissantly
    vile it was that to permit the most halting syllable of this
    unspeakable profanation to pass my lips would blight the
    auditor and drag him down to utter ruin; so instead I'll tell
    you my favorite story about Bunnykins and Meemo.
          -- Cecily Korell  (Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest entry)

    With six-guns blazing she fought her way through the crowded
    saloon, never stopping to worry about where she'd left her
    clothes or the man in the rabbit suit she'd just left
    upstairs.
          -- Jan Butchart  (Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest entry)

    "Sex is all I ever seem to think about," grumbled Humphry as
    he turned from the freshly dug grave, wiped the loose dirt
    from his hands and knees, and leaned against the lurid neon
    sign proclaiming "SAM'S CEMETERY -- YOUR PUTREFACTION
    GUARANTEED" to smoke a stale cigarette while casually stomping
    a rat.
          -- Amy Woodward  (Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest entry)

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(Actually, I'd heard that first one as "Gladly the Constipated 
Cross-Eyed Bear.")

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