Obviously using you're performance as practice material for the next
Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest.
"There is a choking quality of nocturnal obscuration in this
instrument
which suits you and this hopefully-painfully numbly depressive
declamation of exquisite emptiness.
The wood in the sound engulfs the throat and presses the forehead
in a
clutching gentility to highlight your very focused phrasing."
- or maybe it's only a really bad Absinthe hangover. But
congratulations, anyway!
Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest
2008 Results
Winner: Purple Prose
The mongrel dog began to lick her cheek voraciously with his sopping
wet tongue, so wide and flat and soft, a miniature pink fleshy cape
soaked through and oozing with liquid salivary gratitude; after all,
she had rescued him from the clutches of Bernard, the curmudgeonly
one-eyed dogcatcher, whose own tongue -- she remembered vividly the
tongues of all her lovers -- was coarse and lethargic, like a slug in a
sandpaper trenchcoat.
Runner-Up:
The complementary crepuscularities of earth and sky shrank away from
one another as the roseate effulgence of a new dawn burst forth, not
unlike a reclining pneumatic beauty's black silk stocking splitting
apart at the seam to reveal the glowing radiance of an angrily
sun-burned leg.
Dishonorable Mention:
The pancake batter looked almost perfect, like the morning sun shining
on the cream-colored bare shoulder of a gorgeous young blonde driving
30 miles over the speed limit down a rural Nebraska highway with the
rental car's sunroof open, except it had a few lumps.
Winner: Adventure
Leopold looked up at the arrow piercing the skin of the dirigible with
a sort of wondrous dismay -- the wheezy shriek was just the sort of
sound he always imagined a baby moose being beaten with a pair of
accordions might make.
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