The New Bad Writing Competition...just for laughs! (LANGUAGE) - Page 20


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Thread: The New Bad Writing Competition...just for laughs! (LANGUAGE)

  1. #191
    Quote Originally Posted by Gargh View Post
    ...that something pacific was about to change.
    At least it probably won't mind.
    'Don't turn around' he ejaculated.
    If there really was a way to win this competition, this sentence might just do it.
    ...hunched like Nostradamus
    From Little-Known Facts About Nostradamus
    All of a sudden, a thunderstorm broke out and the kings' horses cam riding down the cobbled street, almost knocking Tad over. Before he had time to recover they had snatched up Angel and ridden off. Her eyes met his in a flash of lightening. 'Noooooo!' he cried, dropping to his knees in the rain. Now he knew he had to do something - and fast.


    To never be continued...ever.
    Thank you for that. Thank you with my most heartfelt thanks! If it were to be continued the world might wobble off it's axis and explode so I say that's a good call. There are just too many things in here that made me laugh.
    Quote Originally Posted by Justin Rocket View Post
    The wind blew over the wide, brownish field like a gust ofwind.

    Another award-winner for this competition (if it really was one)
    Now, if the ominous omens were to be trusted,
    Do not ignore the ominous omens!!
    my magic senses warned me that the ominous omens could betrusted.
    They'll do that.

    Truly horrible stench, that story. I'm glad I donned my gas mask before reading.


    Like Gumby, I am humbulled and heckcited to see storeys here again, it brings tears to the orbs in my head. Thank you.

  2. #192
    thanks all, if there's anything I have a knack for, it's writing badly. Writing well is where I still need work.
    Last edited by Justin Rocket; July 4th, 2013 at 01:06 AM.

  3. #193
    Quote Originally Posted by Justin Rocket View Post
    thanks all, if there's anything I have a knack for, it's writing badly. Writing well is where I still need work.
    It's good to have one accomplishment under your belt when trying for the next one! Best of luck.

  4. #194
    I'm working on writing a story, (which was told to me by my uncle bob, (who i swear is the funniest man in the universe, (which if you recall may or may not have been created in a big bang, (I don't believe that, myself. I think space aliens engineered us from other species they picked up on their travels, (like maybe galaxy X, (or somewhere closer for all I know, (which I don't know a whole lot about space travel, (but I like to read about it, (like the Star Trek books, (I've read all 687, (which is quite a few I might add, (and by add, I mean to this post, (just so we're clear, (hopefully I'm making sense, (I don't all the time, (I've got ADHD, (which means I can't concentrate on anything, (not even writing, (which I think I'm pretty good at, (I'm like, the new Mark Twain or something.)))))))))))))))))))

    I'll post this tale when I get it done, (I know you'll be looking forward to it.)

    "Life is a risk; so is writing. You have to love it." ~ Richard Matheson

  5. #195
    Looks like we'll have to consider a punctuation prize.

  6. #196
    It takes effort to figure out how to screw up punctuation that bad, believe it or not.

    "Life is a risk; so is writing. You have to love it." ~ Richard Matheson

  7. #197
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    Hollywood has been known to twist real stories to make them more commercial. I feel it is my obligation to correct a grave mistelling of a story I was personally involved in. My name is Charlie and I'm here to tell you the truth about Willy Wonka and his chocolate factory. The national chocolate binges that ensued from the Gold Ticket competition Willy Wonka hosted invited and inadvertently encouraged children of previously immaculate health to delve wide-eyed into boxes of rich glucose-ridden chocolate bars, with hope that they'd fulfil their childhood dreams to wander around the blood sugar elevating castle, hand in hand with frowning, disapproving parents that would side-eye Mr Willy 'Kiddy Fiddler' Wonka, as my Father had deemed him, for an entire whole day. I was fortunate enough to find two tickets a hundred and twenty five chocolate bars in to my sticky, heart clogging endeavours. My dearest friend Thomas, who had already gorged himself on over four hundred chocolate bars since I spoke to him a month and half ago, was in a sorry state of defeat. I'd secretly hoped to see him at the preliminary meeting held at Mr Wonka's factory. Since I did not see him there, as I had expected from his grandiose endeavours to find a Golden Ticket and make history, fuelled incessantly by his parents inattention and their massive fortunate in the rug trading business. Left to his own devices Gus had set out with a smile on his face to win a Golden Ticket. He had contacted me by phone briefly a month ago to tell me he was going strong albeit being diagnosed with acute and irreparable diabetes as well as a heart condition that Doctors rarely saw in anyone below the age of fifty, let alone twelve. I'd never seen such dedication or such an adamant sweet tooth in anyone, so after the big tour I deemed it my duty as his friend to recount the days events at the chocolate factory to him in vivid detail. From the fruit salad wall to the raging chocolate river, as well as the child that was taken behind 'a secret door' by Willy Wonka and returned wide-eyed, his pockets bursting with everlasting gobstoppers. I put on my raincoat and trudged out into the East London rain. I found myself at his lavish front door soaking wet. His Mother answered. Her eyes were sunken in her skull and she beckoned me in, staring through me hollowly. I moved into the house. Her gaunt, ashen complexion paled under the dim light of the entryway. I made my way up the stairs to Gus' room. I heard muffled arguing come from behind the door. I made out a few words as I drew nearer to the door.


    "Gus, stop. The competitions over. Gus, please, you have to stop, you're going to die."


    The feint inflection of chewing emanated the thick oaken door. As I near the second floor landing the door opened and a man dressed as a doctor stepped out. His brow was beaded with sweat. He panted on the spot for a moment before noticing the small mousy haired boy standing at the top of stairs clutching the banister as if to keep himself up.


    "Hello there, little boy," he said, his voice flecked with poorly masked anxiety. "I'm afraid Gus can't see anyone right now."


    "Why not?" I asked. "Is he sick?"


    "Boy, you best turn around and walk yourself down those stairs and out the door. Be happy you won your ticket in the time you did and forget about Gus."


    "I came all the way over to visit him."


    The doctor pulled a single cigarette from his breast pocket and put it to his lips. He lent against the balustrade heavily and lit the cigarette.


    "I'm being paid ten times my usual hourly rate and it's still not enough. I'm tired, kid. I've offered my sternest advice to you and that's all I have to say on the matter." He took a deep drag of the cigarette. "Do what you want."


    I was slightly shaken by the words, but I'd spent too long in the rain and had been feeling slightly pneumonic the last few days from the cold weather coupled with the excess sugar I'd consumed over the past few months. Not to mention the central heating was a welcoming juxtaposition to the icy London streets.


    After the doctor had descended the stairs and disappeared out the door and I'd entered Gus' room I immediately regretted my decision.


    There in the middle of mountains of chocolate bars and discarded wrappings sat my childhood friend, Gus. At least, I thought it was him. I barely recognised him for his enormous girth that had swallowed his king size bed. The sides of him sagged over it and onto the floor. I gasped audibly. He didn't hear me at all. His health had receded so badly that his diabetes had sent him blind. I watched him, my jaw hanging open loosely, as he shovelled chocolate into his mouth, not bothering anymore to search the wrappings for the golden ticket that had been his dream. The dream that had landed him on his deathbed. A feint beeping emitted from somewhere behind him. I noticed multiple drips the doctor must've been paid to set up coming out of his arms to combat the damage he was doing to his body. They pumped nutrients into him and kept his heart from failing under his great weight. They pumped the toxins out of his body and transfused his blood rapidly. In intervals, Gus would shove his fingers down his throat to empty his stomach before he kept eating. Brown vomit spilled out like brackish water and I realised the tide of his chocolate bile was lapping at my feet. My mind couldn't comprehend what I was seeing and I wavered on my feet.


    "Gus! It's me, Charlie. You need to stop this." He couldn't hear me. He was lost to Willy Wonka's evil genius. Left to drown in his own chocolate river in his own chocolate factory. And that is the true story of how Augustus Gloop died.

  8. #198
    It was then, not now, in that moment of utter despair, when the birds sang and the blood flowed, after the boys returned home, long before the powers to be pulled out their keys and their code books, that I realized, with total complete clarity, that my thoughts were set into motion by an alcoholic haze, not unlike Jimmy Hendrick's: Purple Haze, which by the way is not his best song, I actually prefer "Hey Joe." and from what I heard, so did he. Where was I? Oh yeah, the birds were singing, the blood was flowing and bodies were every after I came into this thread and saw the overuse, the undefined, a Mecca of exclaimated adverbs and run sentences peppered with typos and blatanancy and blisffullness. It was then as the birds sang, or maybe it was "The Byrds" that I loaded up my virtual gun and killed them all.

    Sadly, I now realize that this was kind of fun and there's no one here to read by post.

    Sniff...
    MJ Preston is an Author and Artist at Large who hails from Canada.
    He is the author of the novels: THE EQUINOX, ACADIA EVENT, HIGHWAYMAN Book One, and numerous short stories and articles.Hidden Content To learn more: visit: Hidden Content Hidden Content
    Hidden Content

  9. #199
    Quote Originally Posted by MJ Preston View Post
    Where was I? Oh yeah,
    Oh dear. How many times have I read that delightful conversational tone? And, unfortunately, how much do I recognise it from my NaNo attempts last year?!
    “Be happy with what you have and are, be generous with both, and you won't have to hunt for happiness.”



  10. #200
    Dark Tides

    Dark Tides
    Break through the levees of my soul
    I am DEATH
    Darkness
    Darkness
    I cut myself to drink the blood
    It tastes like DEATH

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