Here are other "winners" in said contest.
I hesitate to ask you for your own samples of terrible writing, but I think some of you might post anyway.
Runner up:
“The Barents sea heaved and churned like a tortured animal in pain, the howling wind tearing packets of icy green water from the shuddering crests of the waves, atomizing it into mist that was again laid flat by the growing fury of the storm as Kevin Tucker switched off the bedside light in his Tuba City, Arizona, single-wide trailer and by the time the phone woke him at 7:38, had pretty much blown itself out with no damage.”
— Scott Palmer, Klamath Falls, Ore.
Other noteworthy submissions:
“LaVerne was undeniably underdressed for this frigid weather; her black, rain-soaked tank top offered no protection and seemed to cling to her torso out of sheer rage, while her tie-dyed boa scarf hung lifeless around her neck like a giant, exhausted, pipe cleaner recently discarded after near-criminal overuse by an obviously sadistic (and rather flamboyant) plumber.”
— Andrew Cavallari, Northfield, Ill.
“As the hippo's jaws clamped on Henry's body he noted the four huge teeth badly in need of a clean, preferably with one of those electric sonic toothbrushes, and he reflected that his name would be immortalized by his unusual death, since hippo killings are not a daily occurrence, at least not in the high street of Chipping Sodbury.”
— Tim Lafferty, Woking, England
“Danny, the little Grizzly cub, frolicked in the tall grass on this sunny Spring morning, his mother keeping a watchful eye as she chewed on a piece of a hiker they had encountered the day before.”
— Dave McKenzie, Federal Way, Wash.
“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.”
— Julie Jensen, Lodi, Calif.
“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.”
— Lisa Lindquist, Jackson, Mich.
“As her quivering lips met his, and her eyelashes fluttered softly on his sweating cheek, Dr. Robbins reflected, 'I didn't realize she had upper dentures . . . in fact, her slippery plastic palate reminds me of going down a waterslide that hasn't been properly chlorinated, as evidenced by the distinct nitrous and sulfurous emanations, or could it be sinus trouble?”'
— Philip Bateman, Kenilworth, South Africa
“The droppings of the migrating Canada geese just missed the outdoor revelers at the inaugural Asian math puzzle competition, marking the first time that dung flew over Sudoku Fest.”
— Kevin P. Craver, Lakewood, Ill.
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Posted by John @ 6:43 PM Tue, Apr 15, 2008
The fourth quarter was down to its last second and, although we were down by five points, we had the ball at fourth and goal and could score six (points) in the next, fateful play (and it was the State Championship, btw, with many scholarships, futures, and reputations riding on it, not to mention school spirit).
This was it: My whole life seemed to be building towards this determinative, do-or-die Moment for the Scrankbury Knockers, the football team for SHS, a.k.a. Scrankbury High (school) of Scrankbury, Pennsylvana, United States of America, Planet...
...Earth.
Beads of sweat beaded up on my forehead (beneath the helmet, of course, but not because of it) and in that last, irrevocable instant before the word "HIKE!" would determine the course of my life for the rest of it (and maybe then some, forevermore, in glory...or infamy), I looked over to the sidelines one last, final time and caught a glimpse of Martha, my girlfriend (who had Quaker parents but decided that she was agnostic and had embarked on a personal, spiritual journey that was essential to her personal fulfilment, growth, and actualization which her parents disapproved of but were powerless to stop what was no less than a demiurgic, existential Urge that separated her from the sheeplike, obedient, and mindlessly conformist herd that was bourgeois humanity at large, and had attracted me to her to begin with), standing quietly, not quite aloof but neither assimilated, among the cheering, screaming, rabid, howling and shouting spectators, some of whom wanted me to score and win, others to fumble and...
Lose.
Others, he suspected, just liked to yell and make trouble (he knew the type well), but they were his masters, now, and he had to deliver (or undeliver, depending on who was rooting for who, of course).
But lo (and behold), in that brief, shining instant our eyes locked and a photonic bridge corded the two of us (almost umbilically, though not literally), I saw her lips form the word: "WIN."
"You can do it," she persisted, "Do it, but not just for me, but for us, and the child to come, for thou hast impregnated me."
And I looked and noticed, beneath her simple, unassuming smock (a far cry from the ostentatious sea of pretentious fashion that she was immersed in) that her soft, white belly (Yes, I had seen that, and more...) bulged, but in the split percentile of a second between the epiphany and the gaping of my jaw behind the cage of my helmet's facemask (Time had slowed down to a tortuous crawl by then, you see, for obvious reasons) I saw that she began to get jostled about by the noisome crowd that she was in the thick of.
She got shoved; she got pushed...
And she fell.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" I bellowed; and I suddenly wanted to rip off my helmet and, swinging it around by the chin-straps like a mace, go charging into the ravenous--no, rapacious-- rioters and bash their brains in, because I realized, right then and there, that I was in love with Martha.
But it was too late, for in the next infinitesimal nanite of a nanosecond, the gun went off with:
"HIKE!"