Anyone care to vote on best (or worst) entry in my contest?

[Zuni]

It is the 'worst beginning to a story contest'. The thread is around here somewhere.
I have not nominated anyone yet.

[terrya]

1. Screaming Lord Byron for:

Because well, this is a bad story. Sort of stomach churning as well. :-)

But you don't understand, Ann' said Rush, a truly breathtaking man

Edited on Tue Jan-06-04 08:21 PM by Screaming Lord Byron
'Talk Radio is the future. It's the new way of getting the truth out there to the honest-to-goodness working class folks of America. When I'm on air, piercing the moist wall democrat of lies with the giant virile lance of truth, I get such a rush knowing that I'm doing some good in the world. It's the best high there is, honey, there is absolutely no drug in the world that can beat it...'
'Take me now, Rush, you marvellous god of a man!'

Sous les paves, la plage!

[Zuni]

2. one for Lord byron of Canada

with his Rush/Ann Coulter torrid love scene

[Zuni]

3. here is one entry I like

"Hey! Where is everybody!" George shouted to a suddenly empty schoolroom.




"Where's that little colored boy who was explaining how a caterpillar can eat so much different stuff every day of the week? And what happens to that caterpillar critter anyway? I thought I was finally gonna get a answer." Little did George know, he was about to become a 'hungry little caterpillar' himself in the great cosmic boardbook of Our Lord.

This was from burtworm

[BurtWorm]

18. Mine had a graphic

Thanks for noticing it! :insert "aw shucks" smiley:

[Zuni]

19. I didn't know how to transfer the graphic

to the post with the copy/paste feature

That wins an award for best text/graphic combination

[Zuni]

4. Here is one from Random Kool Zip that I like a lot

"Ever since the wife taped over my collection of "Charles in Charge"


episodes, I found that the only thing that could get me off was to strap our shar-pei puppy to the top of the fridge with a strip of leather as I spat pistaschio shells at my autographed picture of Joe Lieberman.

As the hulls flew, I stopped in my tracks as the phone rang. I picked it up. It was Judge Scalia- AGAIN.

"What are you wearing," he muttered under his breath..."

[Zuni]

5. Excellent one from KMLA

"That has to be the best bust of Elvis anyone has ever crafted out of braunschweiger. Ever." he said to himself. "But I sure could use a refrigerator, though. My art would last much longer, if only I had one."

He was an artist. An obsessive-compulsive one. It really didn't matter what he was doing, as long as he was creating something. He had tried physical arts at one time, but found that people were not receptive to his interpretive dancing. "Fuck those opera people. If they don't enjoy a twirly-swirly dance during the quiet passages, they can just kiss my artistic ass. They're snobs anyway."

The doorbell rang. It was Ned, the delivery guy from the grocery store. An entire case of Underwood Deviled Ham Spread awaited him.
"Excellent. I can now begin scuplting my interpretation of Earl Butz's bust. I have been waiting for this all freakin'day!"

Yes. It's true. Eddie sculpted solely in lucheon meats. Specifically those which could be spread on a cracker.

He was happy.

[Zuni]

20. I think this may be my selection

for the winner. It is still tentative and the contest is not over.

[Screaming Lord Byron]

21. That's my choice for sure. n/t

[Zuni]

6. This is by Rabrrrr

The kind of a rain that just comes down and down and gets you really wet, soaked right down to the bones, even through my raincoat, which is a really good raincoat, the kind that pretty good private eyes wear, like me. I'm a private eye. And tonight it was raining. A lot. I was so wet, I was cold and shivery as I entered my office and spoke to my secretary. "Cold out?" she stupidly asked me, like a small child asking a tall adult "what's the weather up there like?" I hate stupidity, and she was stupid, and I can't stand her any more. So I'm standing there, all wet and stuff, trying to get my coat off because it was wet from the raining that was happening outside, and I'm dripping all over the floor now, but I get it off and manage to hang it on the coat rack I bought just so that I'd have a place to put my raincoat, or other coats I might own, which I do own several of different colors, too, and so there it was, and there the coat went on. Hanging there, dripping on the floor, drip drip drip, like some slanteye's water torture test, except without the bamboo, and without the chink, or the torture part. "What do I have to do tonight?" I asked that stupid secretary I don't know why I hired. "How should I know, you big galoot?" She had nice legs, but she was as dumb as the kind of person who would do stupid things, that's how dumb she is. I mean, really. So I sat at my desk, after moving into the room my desk is in and closing the door behind me between me and the stupid secretary, and I looked out the window that my office had and I'm watching it rain now, wondering if anything will happen tonight, case-wise, or if I'll just end up sitting here twiddling my thumbs like some poor old stupid old private eye who never gets business or something. But now, the phone rings! So I answered it. I might be a case! I don't know yet.

[Zuni]

7. another by kmla

Geezly crow. This has to be one of the worst parades ever"


said the grizzled old private eye, as he sat on the curb in the comforting shadow of a dented mail drop box. "I haven't seen that first Shriner on a mini-bike. What kind of town is this?"

He looked fleetingly like Sam Elliot, but had a slight paunch and his right eye always seemed to be looking over your shoulder when you made eye contact with him. Which hardly anyone ever did.

He was there on what could loosely be called business. He wasn't getting paid for this job. It was a freebie. He was tracking down the ex-fiance of an old army buddy. He said she would be easy to locate, for she had only one eyebrow, and a monochromatic tattoo of Caspar Weinberger on her left forearm.

"Amazing what a bottle of Wild Turkey will do to your vision," he thought as he looked at her faded photo again. How could his buddy have chosen this woman?

As he gazed into the faces of the approaching marching band members(which was a little heavy in the tuba section, by the way), he saw her on the other side of the street. She had tried to conceal her identity by dyeing her hair and wearing a long sleeve shirt in the middle of the August heat. But there is only so much tweezing you can do to one eyebrow...

[Zuni]

8. one by Zuni

It was dawn when Rick pulled into the parking lot, taking one last drag from his Camel ciggarette. The smell of eggs and bacon reached his nose, augmented by the scent of hotcakes and syrup. Yes he was lucky. The good people at the McDonalds had already thrown out the first batch of their breakfast menu, into the dumpster right infront of him. Whatever he did, he would be eating good today.

[Zuni]

9. another by Rabrrrr

I fi hadn't been totally and suddenly overcome by painful rectal itch,


maybe I could have saved that child. But I couldn't. I was so obsessed with scratching, the child died, with his family. But that's beside the point, because this is a novel about me, John Smith, a simple everyman, and my last days as an accountant just before retiring on an annuity earning almost 9 percent. I call it, "That's My Pencil, You Green-Hatted Albatross".

[kmla]

17. This one is my favorite....

So, Rabrrr, what's the next paragraph?

[Zuni]

10. screaming lord byron

A lot of people don't like cement. Jake wasn't one of them


to him cement seemed to be an ideal metaphor for the vagueries of human existence. Some days slowly rotating that thick grey soup through the rusty mixer, Jake's mind would wander, contemplating the inconsistency of the mix, imaging the small nuggets of hard substance as islands of unyielding mortar in a glutinous sea of obsequious life-soup. Jake would often get giddy just contemplating the full universes of thought he could inhabit through his cement work. Jake was no ordinary cement-mixer, he was a true artist.

Sous les paves, la plage!

[Zuni]

11. by underpants

It was a dark and storming night and his rash had become unberable....


What could he do? He thought to himself.

The options ran threw his head and he finally decided that the answer may vary well lie in excessive drinking, mustard pacts, and something involving a Coleman habachi. He set off for the night's work.

[Zuni]

12. loonman

Marvin Spunkmyer liked sawdust. He liked it a lot. He liked it so much he used to put it in his underwear. He would sleep that way, with sawdust eventually covering his bedroom floor.

Marvin was an unassuming character. His interests outside of sawdust included fanbelts, edible underwear, Bleu Cheese dressing and Aardvarks. Once he considered owning a hamster, but changed his mind.

He used to drink water. Occasionally. Every now and then he would enjoy some Macaroni and Cheese washed down with a luke-warm Moxie. But not today.

He was out of Moxie. Marvin went to the supermarket.

We believe in nothing, Lebowski, nothing!

[Zuni]

13. from Beetwasher

Zak yawned as he


affixed another white, ridged screw-on top to the tube of toothpaste. There were hundreds more tubes on the conveyor belt and thousands of tops in the bin next to him. It was going to be yet another long, boring day in the factory. This is the story of that banal day

[Zuni]

14. from Dookus

Jack Patter stumbled through the thicket,

Edited on Tue Jan-06-04 08:57 PM by Dookus
rifle at the ready. It'd had taken 12 years of bureaucratic wrangling and about a thousand lies to get to this point, but now he was drawing near to his dream.

The sharp bamboo cut at his legs as he wandered forward, stopping to listen every few minutes. "The little bastards really ARE elusive," he thought to himself. It was his 17th straight day on the hunt, but today he was more optimistic than ever before.

Soon... maybe today.... he'd prove to Marla, that stupid bitch of an ex-wife of his, that with enough will and fortitude, it really IS possible to hunt pandas.

[Zuni]

15. From the Goddess of Guiness

Tom's blind date piled into the car.


Her perfume hinted of paperwhites with overtones of piss. The scent intertwined with the odor of the oil of clove-drenched cotton ball jammed into his broken bicuspid, making the air thick and sticky. It made him think of sex. Of course, almost everything made him think of sex; but luckily for him, on this particular occasion, it made his blind date think of sex too.

On account of being a democracy and run by the people, we are the

[Zuni]

16. Here is another nominee from Rabrrr

I had closed my door just before the neighbor's apartment exploded.


The echoes of the explosion rattled through our building. Glass, furniture and body parts were flying out the window and landing in the courtyard. People were screaming all up and down the block. The mayhem, the horror, were extreme. I waited, quietly, in my bathroom, for it all to end. When it was silent, I took my phone off the hook so as not to be disturbed, went into my den, and continued working on my passion: a 1/25 fully-detailed scale model of the Shire with working fireplaces, hinged doors, and grain of wheat light bulbs representing hobbit holes currently being used. I would go down in history!

[Zuni]

22. kick

these are the nominees

[Screaming Lord Byron]

23. kick

[kmla]

24. Anyone? Anyone?

*Crickets chirping*