The NSG Bulwer-Lytton Competition II: The Winner!

[The Archregimancy]

Ladies, Gentlemen, and Non-Binary Participants,,

The winner of the NSG Bulwer-Lytton Competition II is....

Cannot think of a name, showing that length sometimes doesn't matter:

Gravel, it turned out, was a terrible substitute for toilet paper.

And the runner up - for the second competition in a row - is Dumb Ideologies with:

The dream long fought for had been realised, one people, one nation, one ruler, eighty-seven genders, but one question remained - what was the correct term of address for a feminine-leaning non-binary pansexual wolfkin absolute ruler of colour?

DI, apologies if you think you were disadvantaged by having two entries in the finalists. If we ever do this again, I might make it one finalist entry per participant, just to ensure fairness - it was just so difficult to choose between your excellent entries.


Congratulations to our winner and runner-up for their fantastic new bragging rights, and many thanks to everyone for participating.

Ladies, Gentlemen, and Non-Binary Participants,

For the first time in 8 long years, and in order to distract you from these turbulent times, we bring you the second NSG Bulwer-Lytton competition, shamelessly modelled on the long-running Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. Here's a link to the 2012 first NSG competition.

The competition is named after the opening sentence of Victorian author Edward Bulwer-Lytton's 1830 novel Paul Clifford:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write the worst opening sentence you can manage.

Some groundrules (several of them equally shamelessly copied from the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest rules):

Each entry must consist of a single sentence; but you may submit as many entries as you wish (so one entry per forum post, please)
Sentences may be of any length but I strongly recommend that entries not go beyond 50 or 60 words
Posts commenting on other entries are welcome
The contest closes to new entries on the 8th of April
The Archregimancy will then choose a list of 10 finalists, and open up a forum poll for voting
The Archregimancy cannot be bribed, not even with kitten pictures, and his decisions are final (especially when he writes about himself in the third person)
Voting on the finalists will then run for one week, and voting will be open to everyone
There's only a single category - no subdividing by genre (the main point of difference from the real Bulwer-Lytton contest)
The winner will receive the amazing prizes of the acclamation of his/her/their peers, and NSG bragging rights


To get you in the spirit, here are the finalists from the 2012 NSG Bulwer-Lytton competition:

The 10 finalists:

As midnight cast its long, dark, throbbing shadow over the bright lights of the City of Light, Isabelle was busy clambering her way through her next novel, much like a beaver eats a tree, but not entirely: for she had lost much of her work in the storms that had happened not one, not two but three days previously, and could not get her large, oversized teeth through the bark that was the opening chapter.

It would be a night she would never forget - not because of the giant eagles they flew upon, or the beautiful hand-wrought septum jewelry he gifted to her, or even the trained koala servants that brought them their meal - but because of the herpes.

One day, in spring, a gentle Dwarf, who, by preference, not custom, lived alone, set out, from his cave, on an errand, to a swamp, where, unbeknownst to him, there dwelt, in squalor, a malodorous Ogre.

The turnip-coloured mountain tops loomed over the stone city as though they were a father towering over a child, but that was was ironic, for that the stones of the city had come from the mountains, making the father-son relationship between the two literal, meaning that the people were, in fact, the mountains.

There wasn't a superfluous amount of felicity to be found in the life of an elephant caretaker for a traveling circus, but Ramon found a minute dropping of pleasure by gazing wistfully at Edwina as she fastidiously plucked remnants of lint and crumbs from her painstakingly groomed beard.

Alexander cha-chaed elegantly into the bar, proceeding thus to ascend upon the tender tender's moobs and receive a swift kick to the genital regions; this ritual he oft repeated, for Azabulzugagar with not even six years having passed had come to him and ordained it in exchange for the life of his darling Holka, whose hairy mole sent tingles down his abdomen every time he became cognizant of its proximity.

The luminscent hues of Princess Lagwardha's hair rippled throughout the air as she spun, shifting from pink to green to purple as she cut down the nefarious Kumwarians with her irridescent sword Hurogismir to defend the younglings.

The morning was bright, bright as the sun which caused it to be so, shining through the shifting shimmering clouds which drifted aimlessly like lost fluffy sheep untethered in a vast open sky, contrasting sharply with the darkness of the night which had just come to a natural close as it did every morning; but as Thomas Tumblemac slept in that morning, like every morning, until early afternoon, that is not where our story begins.

Of all the impudences, impertinences, phenomena with distinctly insolent anger-making properties, the meager saliferous unpalatableness of these accursed, confounded, monstrous, diabolical, infernal hypermarket-acquired twenty-pence custard creams verily was the zenith of the real and figurative taking of the biscuit.

It was a dark and stormy night, a night so dark that ninjas can walk about freely as if they were ladies going to the town picnic, a night of deluges so strong that kittens and baby birds are found the next morning washed into the gutters, a night so dangerous that Molly McGuin stayed wrapped in her chartreuse snuggy eating popcorn by the light of American Idol on her television imagining the sweet love of Clay Akins rather than facing the truth.

Honourable mentions:

The Blackhawk thwopped over the dark, grim heights of the Urals with its compliment of bunched-up SEALs clinging to their M4A1 Carbines as if they were teenage sweethearts... the stooped Russians below had no earthly idea were about to get torn up like saran-wrapped jaffa cakes in a sack full of labradors.

It had been three long days since Harris last saw Verdida, days that had crawled by like an earthworm struggling to cross hot pavement on a sunny day, its slimy body gradually withering in the mild heat of the afternoon sun while the rocky ground scraped mercilessly at its unprotected belly.

Henrietta realised as she looked in the cold, hard glass of her mother's mirror, wearing her mother's wedding dress, that she looked exactly like her father, despite her hair, her make up and eyes being exactly the same as her mother's on the day of her wedding.

"S-word!" shouted the young bartender as the cold, damp glass of beer slipped from her hands and was pulled down by gravity, a force which was extensively researched by scientists Galileo Galilei (1564-1642) and Issac Newton (1642-1727), towards the wooden and gum-covered floor, much like a glass of a drink similar to beer but not quite beer would, for the glass was filled with beer and thus would be very much like a glass filled with a beer-like substance that was not exactly like beer, for two substances can never truly be alike, unless they are.

There was wonder and adventure in Harry Goldman's beady eyes as he set up his telescope on the roof of his '97 Chevy Impala, the metal crinkling beneath his feet as this was no place to stand but it did in fact offer a glorious view into the window of the octogenarian widow's bedroom as she unrolled sagging pantyhose from her varicose veined legs and removed her slimy dentures.

It was a bright and sunny morning, but dark clouds of rage hung over Thrungur the Unbearable’s mind like the stench from a burned out village of filthy farmers on the second or third day after he himself had burned it, which, oddly enough, is what was making him so angry, the stench, that is, which was wafting downwind to the camp where his reavers had been sleeping off two days of rapine and debauchery but were now awakening with coughing and retching, the sound of which sent Thrungur looking for a bucket into which to empty the roiling contents of his stomach, and wishing he hadn’t decided to try the fermented goat’s milk last night: someone would pay for this and right soon.

One morning, as Gregor Samsa awoke from restless nightmares, he found himself transformed into a monstrous bunny.

- very funny, but inadmissable because only one word's been changed from a real life opening sentence.

Now, go forth and write badly!


And yes, I know this might arguably belong in Arts & Fiction, but this was originally an NSG competition - so an NSG competition it remains.


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THE 10 FINALISTS:

Voting is now open for four days, until a bit after 16:00 Cairo time (UTC+2) on the 12th of April
Good-spirited banter about the entries is encouraged.

The attendant sighed as the faulty coin-pusher scattered its contents around the arcade in a spray of legal tender shrapnel; was this what the fortune-teller meant when she told him change was in the air?

The dream long fought for had been realised, one people, one nation, one ruler, eighty-seven genders, but one question remained - what was the correct term of address for a feminine-leaning non-binary pansexual wolfkin absolute ruler of colour?

We are creatures in tune with vibration: music, violent motions of the Earth, touches serene and ardent; it is these vibrations that massage the essence of our beings into peace- we shake things off- so it is these harmonic and physical oscillations that lead me to so very firmly believe that there is great healing power in twerking.

Gravel, it turned out, was a terrible substitute for toilet paper.

With the aftertaste of lima beans and cheap gin still lingering in the back of her mouth, she screamed at the top of her lungs "No Longer Shall We Be Forced To Remain In The House Of The Lord, FOREVER!" in a surprisingly deep baritone voice, while struggling to undo the straps of her season-appropriate lederhosen.

D.I Max Strength dragged on his cigarette like he was sucking the last of the petrol out of a tank, his craggy eyes peered through warm rain that drizzled down like vinaigrette on a salad as he waited for the lady to return, a lady who both excited and frightened him, the combination of reward and hurt of a hot currry, like the best sort of sex.

As the heavenly bodies rose in the East, casting their gloried light over a rolling plain resplendent with the life of spring and the labour of the goodly creatures, from the littlest bee to the galloping horses, the armies that brought chaos, war and suffering to half a continent heaved and bellowed in a foetid stench of man, beast and metal, unaware of their impending destruction; for, as the armies stilled, that golden host crested the western hill, glittering in their fine satin underwear and gleaming with silver charm bracelets.

Fireworks exploding before my eyes, steel drumsticks pounding at my ears, as my inert body acrobatically glided across the room, I began to reflect that he was not referring to a foreign culinary dish when he offered me a "knuckle sandwich."

After centuries of deliberation by the finest ovine minds, the sheep General was finally ready to announce the plan for the conquest of Britain to the assembled woolly horde - "First we take Prestatyn, then we take King's Lynn".

The crusty, weather beaten, old sailor sat at the bar, drinking whisky after whisky; because his spinach had failed him, so he sat there muttering something about "I yam no longer what I yam."

[Dumb Ideologies]

The attendant sighed as the faulty coin-pusher scattered its contents around the arcade in a spray of legal tender shrapnel; was this what the fortune-teller meant when she told him change was in the air?

[Bombadil]

Ned stepped out into the crisp and clear New Year's Day morning, "2020 is going to be absolutely brilliant" he exclaimed.

[Kowani]

The End.

[The JELLEAIN Republic]

The plane fell closer and closer to the mountain that secretly was housing Dr zikohfs lair witch is where the dominator was being constructed that was mean to target mars first that was home to the Martian cultists that worshipped an alien fossil that may have originated from the moon which is where appalls 11 landed witch took off the same year that was 10 years older than 1959 which numbers equaled the ID on one of the test monkeys at the underground zoo that housed 5000 different species like the mantle maggot that was recently discovered deep in the earth that is also home to the magmatrail that sustains Hawaii’s volcanos witch have as of late been causing many issues including making large trails of ash destroying much life in its way.

[The JELLEAIN Republic]

The plane fell closer and closer to the mountain that secretly was housing Dr zikohfs lair witch is where the dominator was being constructed that was mean to target mars first that was home to the Martian cultists that worshipped an alien fossil that may have originated from the moon which is where appalls 11 landed witch took off the same year that was 10 years older than 1959 which numbers equaled the ID on one of the test monkeys at the underground zoo that housed 5000 different species like the mantle maggot that was recently discovered deep in the earth that is also home to the magmatrail that sustains Hawaii’s volcanos witch have as of late been causing many issues including making large trails of ash destroying much life in its way.

That then caught the planes engines, causing it to nosedive next to a certain mountain ..

[Radiatia]

Chang winced as he braved the smoke and haze of the Shanghai morning, on his way to his job at the factory where unknown to him today would be the day that he would make a piece of furniture which would some day adorn the house of the man who was friends with the woman who worked next door to the shop where the fateful murder occurred.

[Radiatia]

Ned stepped out into the crisp and clear New Year's Day morning, "2020 is going to be absolutely brilliant" he exclaimed.

It turned out Ned was right, as he happened to be an agoraphobic introvert who hated going outside and talking to people. He also detested toilet paper and was glad to see it removed from his local supermarket.

[Zeritae]

"Today is my best day!" Shouted Ted, not knowing of the crash that was going to kill his family, the murder of his neighbor, or his mother-in-law's visit...

[The JELLEAIN Republic]

Ned stepped out into the crisp and clear New Year's Day morning, "2020 is going to be absolutely brilliant" he exclaimed.

It turned out Ned was right, as he happened to be an agoraphobic introvert who hated going outside and talking to people. He also detested toilet paper and was glad to see it removed from his local supermarket.

/skip

Imitation is the highest form of flattery.

[Nobel Hobos 2]

If it were possible, and whichever of them did it, Father Time's other keepers would turn on disenchantment or heroic dissolution to be amongst thieves or dimensions, for such frequently is the way of all achronological agents.

The above is so annoying, it must be on the right track. However, writing nonsense feels like cheating. I may try again later.

[Forsher]

The man sighed... it was everything he'd ever hoped, nay, wished for and, yet, it seemed devoid of all meaning, lacking in substance and, ultimately, a mere distraction from his impending doom.

[The Free Joy State]

"The mewling, mutating rampallian wretch wrought nought but wretchedness upon me," wailed the chic yet bleak girl in a pique, pressing fey hand upon her cheek; an unlucky girl, she’d be in a whirl for charmers who’d take all but her memories, but Fred Dredd -- who delivered bread -- took those and reduced her to beggary.

[Nobel Hobos 2]

“The mewling, mutating rampallian wretch wrought nought but wretchedness upon me,” wailed the chic yet bleak girl in a pique, pressing fey hand upon her cheek; an unlucky girl, she’d be in a whirl for charmers who’s take all but her memories, but Fred Dredd -- who delivered bread -- took those and reduced her to beggary.

Too much alliteration and rhyme, it's almost good. Try imperfect rhymes?

Also semicolons should be banned, they're destroying many a run-on sentence

[Andsed]

Mistakes were indeed made I thought to myself as the plane spiraled through the air turning those damm babies into projectiles as their mothers tried to catch them, yes I thought perhaps causing everyone to freak out by shitting on the floor was not my best idea.

[United Muscovite Nations]

Diopolis stared out the window of the bus as he went about his day. Being a conspiracy theorist, all he could think about was the Jewishness of it all, he had to go to the Jew bankers to get their Jew money to buy Jew groceries. "If only I were a medieval serf!" he thought.

[The Archregimancy]

Diopolis stared out the window of the bus as he went about his day. Being a conspiracy theorist, all he could think about was the Jewishness of it all, he had to go to the Jew bankers to get their Jew money to buy Jew groceries. "If only I were a medieval serf!" he thought.

1) Best opening sentence; this is three sentences.

2) Entries that troll other NSG participants will be automatically ruled ineligible.

Don't argue, UMN; you know as well as I do that this was fairly low.

[Infected Mushroom]

A tale of mistake and folly will follow in which the moral of the said tale may aptly be summarized as follows: that in the present day and age, the century being the twenty-first, it must be said, and with absolute unequivocal authoritative tone, that a true hero and man of success isn’t measured by the strength of one’s muscles nor by the size and vivacity of one’s heart of passion; rather, the subtle degrees of one's heroism and valor are rightly and appropriately accounted for by the total size and content of one’s wallet, the height, constitution, and fortitude of one’s yatch, and by the total metaphorical volume of true wisdom and technical skill one has acquired through the playing of that game the gods call League of Legends.

[Infected Mushroom]

^

Is that more than 1 sentence?

Does the grammar have to be 100% correct?

[New haven america]

If we're being completely honest here I often have problems coming wp with something to write under presse, however, I have henceforth decided to participate anyway in any way I possible know how and that's to just keep writing and writing until something eventually clicks and i'm able to get something out of the experience, now this may not be the wittist or most interesint wau entry but that's ok because were all just entering for fun and not to show off any particular skill as this is a competition besed on your lack of writing ability which in and of it'seklf is not an actually skill, though I do find it interesting that the mod team would bring back such a nonprestigious reward after 8 years I am nontheless excited to enter my entry and see at wich point I place namely for the fact that I find it presonnaly amuzing as I rarely get the chane to show off my writing skills in such a publicn manner and dont have to hold back like like I do elsewhere but thats not the point of it as I assume the point os to ellicit a humerous reaction from our fellow plauyers and the mod staff who I may or may not be briding with kitty pictures for the holy site known as r/awww or r/eyebleach but I dont know if our fellowe players deserves such a strange award during this time

[The Holy Therns]

Lord Flaversham sighed in his longing, wistful look out the window as he considered the ponderous horror that afflicted his nation, nay indeed his very world (for it is during the Great Depression that our timeline occurs), for you see Flaversham was a capitalist overlord possessing the manufacture of toothpicks, and his fortune had now been shat straight down the gutter like an alcoholic's diarrhea [for more detailed analysis on the class conflict inherent in this story see page 323].

[Dumb Ideologies]

The Statistician was a superstitious man but not one well-disposed towards religion, he knew deep in his bones that the beginning was not the Word but all eternity was to be found in Excel.

[Nobel Hobos 2]

The Statistician was a superstitious man but not one well-disposed towards religion, he knew deep in his bones that the beginning was not the Word but all eternity was to be found in Excel.

Nothing here that couldn't be made worse with more Tedious Length. I know you have it in you!

[Rojava Free State]

As he stepped into the darkness, his eyes perceived virtually nothing, but unbeknownst to him as his left foot descended toward the floor, there was a yellow lego block on the ground which his appendage was approaching, and he didn't know it was there until the sharp edges pierced into his soft flesh, tearing through skin like a katana.

[Ethel mermania]

Let it go, she said, let it go, let it go, let it go, but she didn't let it go, it stayed.