The New Bad Writing Competition...just for laughs! (LANGUAGE) - Page 27


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

  1. #261
    I'm happy you understand the hidden meanings, HarperCole. I sure don't.

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

  2. #262
    Okay, this next magnum opus is based on a true story; the only things changed are the names of the people concerned and the events that happened to them.

    One aspect that I'm particularly pleased with is the twist ending, in which it's revealed that the first person narrator is actually a woman, and not a man as I imply throughout. I'll be interested to find out whether any of you see that little bombshell coming (spoilers).

    Oh, and please be warned, this story is highly erotic.

    Enjoy ...

    Lo, For Tis Not My Heart Rent In Twain Like Glittering Moons in The Bosom Of The Night

    Chapter 1

    It was a fine English summer morning in early January. I had finished my work at the bank and was enjoying a walk back home through the cruel, driving rain when I saw her.

    Yes. I saw ... her.

    Chapter 2

    She was sitting on a park bench amongst the Autumn leaves, bathed in moonlight. She had a face like a million dollars, if that amount of money had been shaped into the form of an extremely attractive female face, possibly by a modern artist who wished to comment on the decadence of western civilisation or whatever. Ah, the woman just breathed class. She also bled sophistication and sweated glamour, and when she sneezed - Oh! When she sneezed! - fountains of liquid gold burst from her nose, glistening in the rays of the sun like a myriad tiny angels notching arrows to their bows of love and piercing my heart again and again until it got boring.

    Chapter 3

    She ovulated to her feet and OMG, she was looking right at me, with eyes which I can only describe as globular organs of sight.

    "Hi there," she began sexily, "how are you doing on this fine

    Chapter 4

    day?"

    I stroked my beard and decided to take control. "You have ... a magnificent... ass'

    "Thank you," she said, stroking the animal's grey muzzle and feeding him a carrot. "He's actually a mule, not an ass. Verily, sirrah, yon beast of burden hath sojourned withst me on many a perilous voyage betwixt twain points. I call him Mr. Flibble-Flobble."

    My heart was pounding at this unsubtle come-get-me line. It was now or never.

    I flung aside my briefcase - the papers within, on drab subjects like European Federalism and mortgage sharing agreements, flew out and scattered on the October wind, metaphorically showing how I was rejecting my old, dull life and embracing a new one full of heart-metamorphosing adventure, and one of the pages happened to land on the front windshield of someone's car, which unfortunately made him swerve off the road and hit a tree, killing the Bulgarian Ambassador to England (who was his passenger), and sending our two nations into a bloody war that ultimately dragged in other countries like America and China, and eventually the entire human species was wiped out, except for a group of scientists who had been stationed in Antarctica, and even they suffered strange mutations because of the fallout, with half of them sprouting four spindly legs from their sides and becoming a cruel race of spider people who enslaved the regular people until one man led an uprising, but it failed and he and all his followers were put to death, and the spider people's reign of terror went on and on until the Sun took pity on the Earth and sent a solar flare to wipe the whole planet out - and kissed her.

    Chapter 5


    Later that day, after engaging in intense bedroom action!!, we lay in each other's arms, and she leaned over and whispered into my ear that she was a tentacled monster from Planet Z, who had temporarily taken on human form so that she could get close enough to me to suck my brains out through my ears, which she then did.

    And that, my dear friends, was the end of me ... the end of Captain Esmeralda Del Potro, lady detective and Space Adventurer!!!!
    Last edited by Harper J. Cole; June 26th, 2015 at 11:56 PM.

  3. #263
    My God! That was an epic orifice! I really appresheate that you kept the iddentitties unbosomed, until 'She' had ovulated on her feet, or, tentacles, as the case maybe. I could almost see her globbyer orgasmics of site! It was that good!

    Can you say seeequail?
    There is no life I know
    To compare with pure imagination.
    Living there you’ll be free
    If you truly wish to be.~ Willy Wonka

  4. #264
    Yes, thank you, a sequel is in the works; it will open with the revelation that everything that happened in part 1 was a dream. An example of the outside-the-box thinking which makes me a truly great author.

  5. #265
    The cliffhanger from chapt 3 to 4 was the climax of the story for me. Everything after was anticlimaxic

    How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
    Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
    Creep into our ears: soft stillness and the night
    Become the touches of sweet harmony.

    - Shakespeare,
    Merchant...Act 5


  6. #266
    Yes, I almost quit reeding it aftur that. It'z hard enuff to wait for the new seeson of Game of Thrones, I shuudn't have to put up with that in a storee two.
    There is no life I know
    To compare with pure imagination.
    Living there you’ll be free
    If you truly wish to be.~ Willy Wonka

  7. #267
    He was the king of a great democracy, which he ruled with an iron fist he kept in his third drawer down to the left. He kept his Queen in a closet where they met to have Tex-Mex take-out. On alternate Thursday nights falling on February 29th, they had relations, for they were married. He hoped she wouldn't beg off with a headache this time. King of a democracy had few perks, he thought. He hoped one day to be President, or a Lobbyist where real power lay. Being King sucked.

    [Very few redeeming qualities. Yep, this is bad - I give it a 1 out of 100. It's a true contender. But the critics loved it - the kiss of death.]

    How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
    Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
    Creep into our ears: soft stillness and the night
    Become the touches of sweet harmony.

    - Shakespeare,
    Merchant...Act 5


  8. #268
    Easily the best story I've ever read; I quite liked it. I think that a story of this complexitude deserves a line by line review ...

    Quote Originally Posted by musichal View Post
    He was the king of a great democracy, which he ruled with an iron fist he kept in his third drawer down to the left.
    Great use of allegory to examine schisms in the feminist movement. The king, of course, represents the didactic logic so thoroughly diagnostic of the 2nd wave libbers, which you playfully contrast with the more teleological epistemology currently en vogue, as represented by the iron fist. Hard hitting but fair.

    He kept his Queen in a closet where they met to have Tex-Mex take-out.
    A crisp segue into satire. The reference to Tex-Mex represents a note-perfect take-down of the facade of capitalism, while the reference to a Queen leaves your audience in no doubt; a benevolent dictatorship is the only system that can save the West from itself.

    On alternate Thursday nights falling on February 29th, they had relations, for they were married.
    Breathtaking prose, the roller-coaster ride picks up speed ... I was soaked in sweat after making it through this line! To cap it all off, you correctly spell February. How many good authors have never made the step up to greatness because they spelt it with only one r?

    He hoped she wouldn't beg off with a headache this time.
    This line, however, was incredibly dull; I seriously considered giving up on the novel while slogging through it. May I suggest that the word "a", which is one of the least interesting in the English language, might have been replaced with something more exciting, such as "klondike", "Zebedee" or "sesquipedalian"?

    King of a democracy had few perks, he thought.
    Oh my!

    I wasn't expecting such openly erotic content. "Democracy" is a well-known euphemism for a lady's bosom, while "King", "perks" and "thought" are all x-rated references I won't translate, lest I offend the sensibilities of our members.

    He hoped one day to be President, or a Lobbyist where real power lay.
    I understand what you're trying to say here, but it doesn't really work in the Arial font. Times New Roman would maximise the emotional impact.

    Being King sucked.
    In the words of Benedict de Spinoza: "Whatever happens in the object of the idea constituting the human mind must be perceived by the human mind, or there will necessarily be the idea of that thing in the mind; that is, if the object of the idea constituting mind is a body, nothing can happen in that body which is not perceived by the mind."

    But where proving the existence of God constituted his life's work, you have done it in just three words! Bravo! Take that, atheists!

    IN SUMMARY

    I loved this story, but it will have offended a lot of people. My recommendation: change your name, grow a beard and go and live in the mountains as a hermit for a couple of decades until the storm blows over.

  9. #269
    Quote Originally Posted by HarperCole View Post

    IN SUMMARY

    I loved this story, but it will have offended a lot of people. My recommendation: change your name, grow a beard and go and live in the mountains as a hermit for a couple of decades until the storm blows over.
    You've been giving TJ1985 advice, too. Haven't you?

    I was disappointed you didn't look deeper for the real meaning of my masterpiece, but that is what happens when they send plebes to do patrician work.
    Last edited by musichal; June 29th, 2015 at 11:54 PM.

    How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
    Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
    Creep into our ears: soft stillness and the night
    Become the touches of sweet harmony.

    - Shakespeare,
    Merchant...Act 5


  10. #270
    You can't have too many hermits. Or too many beards.

    Apologies for my shallow analysis: it was only really meant as a foundation for future literary scholars to build upon.

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