Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)

Subject: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Peter T.
Date: 28 May 03 - 09:47 AM

A spinoff from the Good Writing Thread. A paragraph (or more) of quality (!) bad writing -- your own please. A modest entry to start off (I am not really warmed up):


"Melissa sensed that her dragon was unhappy, and reached into her bag of dragonsongs, but came up empty. There were only the two of them now -- the vast, immense snakelike, rippling creature who, in blithelier days, she would mount, feeling his great dragonness heaving below her, yet responsive to her every touch, as they winged their way in freedom over the face of Adrelgador and the sun and the wind of her home world streaked her face -- and she, bardess of Dragons. But, now that the war with the Men of Malfician was lost, the songs were all sung, and the dragons were all dragged."

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: alanabit
Date: 28 May 03 - 10:19 AM

Peter, let me get back from the bathroom first...

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 28 May 03 - 10:38 AM

There isn't one of my 450+ dragons not wincing at that... I don't think we could possibly surpass it!

LTS

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Big Mick
Date: 28 May 03 - 10:46 AM

Damn..........that is bad.   I shall now begin questing to find other areas of influence within which I seek to best friend of mine Peter. Just when I think I have surpassed his talents in an area of expertise that he owns, he jumps up and writes down the ideas which are now ahead in the race we both are running to be a literary master of the written word which we have written down here. I give up and also quit and am not writing no more.

All the best and also best wishes as well,

Mick

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Geoff the Duck
Date: 28 May 03 - 10:53 AM

This contest could Drag-On for weeks!!!
Quack!
GtD.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: GUEST,JTT
Date: 28 May 03 - 11:02 AM

LOL, Peter T. Only problem is that writing like this is a dragon the market.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 28 May 03 - 11:32 AM

Contest? We don't need no steenkin' contest! Just give the trophy to Tweed and be done with it. Thet boy rites bofe bad and porely two.

Bruce

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: MMario
Date: 28 May 03 - 11:39 AM

Cliff Dastard plastered himself against the granite foundation, seeking, as always, to blend into the background, observing without being observed, listening without being heard, gathering the information and data with which by the selling of he made his living. Cliff noted that once again, as they did on a regular basis frequently, the Bilderburg Brethren were plotting the overthrow of world government in order to increase their already unimaginable wealth and power by destroying the very power base the world *thought* yielded them their riches and influence. Related primarily through the employment of servants and subordinates who could all trace their ancestry to one of the cousins of the kitchen steward of an obscure Danish prince before Denmark existed, the BB's were one of Cliff's primary and most important sources of subversive rumours, though they were unwittingly not aware of it.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: The O'Meara
Date: 28 May 03 - 12:47 PM

You might try the website for the "Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest" which is a contest for bad fiction writing. (bulwer-lytton.com) "It was a dark and stormy night..."

Theen, of course, there is The Great McGonigal, widely thought to be the world's worst poet.

O'Meara

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: katlaughing
Date: 28 May 03 - 01:18 PM

Misty Lou gave her pinkie toenail one last dollop of polish and snapped her chewing gum, mint flavoured, at the same time, with little wedges of cotton tucked between each toes. Her Giovanni liked them hot pink and shiny, so she then moved on to do her fingernails, actually they were more like long dragon claws, like you might see on the ends of a dragon lady's hands in one of those marital arts movies. Anyway, she was dressed in hot pink to match 'cause Giovanni, known as Joe, liked her in hot pink. He said it made her hair look even more shiny and blond AND it reminded him of her little pink "maryanne" and he loved it a lot, always wanting her to show it off to him, but he got mad if anyone else ever talked sexy about her at all. She didn't have any idea of why he liked to call it her "maryanne" but she thought it might have something to do with his mother, Marianna. Anyway, he said it was his and only his. She didn't name his after anybody but he really liked it when she played hide his "Kielbasa" or "Mr. K!"

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: DonMeixner
Date: 28 May 03 - 01:49 PM

Cut and paste any of the fiction from "Guest" under the heading
"Political Thriller"

Don

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 28 May 03 - 01:50 PM

Ha! Ha! Ha! I think Mario's is the worst so far. (Although Kat's is incredibly tacky.) Peter, of course, is as incomparable as ever, and has just completely trashed adult fantasy involving young women and dragons.

I'm gonna paste in my own deathless prose which started this:

Most people at Joyce-Aylwin & Company didn't like Vance Aylwin very much, but they did envy him. Jennifer had heard him described once as "brutally handsome", and it fit. From the slightly cruel jawline to the steely blue eyes that seemed to peel a woman's clothes off with a glance, he was a certified Beverly Hills stud, and he knew it. And he was rich. More than rich in fact. He oozed money from every pore. You could see it in the tailored suits, the Italian shoes, and the one-of-a-kind silk neckties. Vance Aylwin was filthy rich.

What really burned Jennifer's cookies was she was obscurely attracted to the man for some reason. Was it his arrogance? Was it his corporate power? Was it just his looks? Or was it something less obvious, some mysterious inner quality that didn't show on the surface, but still tickled Jennifer's feminine intuition and kept her awake far too late at night?

It would bear looking into, she thought, examining her cuticles for the nineteenth time and checking her lip gloss in the mirror for good measure. She had a meeting scheduled with Vance Aylwin for 6 O'Clock at the Coocoo Bird Lounge, and she intended to make the most of it...



Now here's a little inside tip from the author (me). Instead of plowing through 300 more pages of the sort of drek shown above, sprinkled with the obligatory melodramatic sex scene every 40 or so pages, why not just directly ask the author (me) what it is that causes Jennifer to be so drawn to the complete asshole that Vance Aylwin so obviously is?

Here it is, in a nutshell. Jennifer is a shallow, tawdry, acquisitive, materialistic little tart who is bored and frustrated, due to the total spiritual emptiness of her idiotic life. She is willing to do anything to relieve that boredom, no matter how stupid it is. She represents the dreams and inner yearnings of a host of people much like herself who will never get the chance to be screwed by someone as rich as Vance Aylwin, and that's why these books sell like hotcakes. Gotta love it!

- LH

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: John Hardly
Date: 28 May 03 - 02:08 PM

It was just a shot in the dark -- a dark that was thick and evil as pea soup. Bad pea soup. Suddenly, the lights came on and illuminated the scene like something bright casting a light on something that was once dark but now isn't.

There, crumpled in the once dark corner lay the unwitting target of the shot that was taken in the darkness that is now light. The victim, as unlikely as it might seem, was both shot through the heart, and shot in the brain. He was dead.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 28 May 03 - 02:28 PM

Oh! Oh! More, John, more!!!

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Peter T.
Date: 28 May 03 - 02:33 PM

"There was a bad wind off the Badlands, and as it whipped through the dilapidated town, slamming doors and beating against window sashes, it carried with it the aroma of bad things, of men who had died in ambushes in blind valleys not of their own choosing, of mixed breed women who vainly tried to clean the reek of the previous man off their bodies, of the dirty smoke of rustler fires, of all the smells of the cattle drive passing along the high ridge, of the badnest of all badnesses, of despair, of the next-to-the-last roundup. "Snake" sniffed it, his pug nose held high, his eyes squinting in the sunlight like two thin dimes, and he loosened his gun in its holster. It was time. There was a reckoning coming, a hard reckoning, payment was due, and his accountant was waiting."

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Peter T.
Date: 28 May 03 - 02:48 PM

"I don't understand, Sergei."

"Oh, you British," Sergei smiled, and they kept moving through the hushed rooms of the Hermitage, night draping the masterpieces in the shadow world that they both lived and thrived in. "You think you have unravelled it all. You think that simply because you were able to piece together that Morris was really one of our agents, who was turned by the Americans, and then re-turned by us, and then counter-spied for you, feeding you misinformation that would lead you to the right action for all the wrong reasons, that simply because of that, the whole operation was a mistake, there you are mistaken."

"But why, Sergei, why?"

"Because," said Sergei slowly, removing his facial hair, "because it was in that night in the Spanish town in Andalucia, among the gypsies, as they howled their cante hondo that I fell in love with you, for I am not really Sergei Rostrenko, but" -- and here Sergei pulled off the dark wig revealing a fall of bottle blond hair --"Natasha Rostrenko!!!".

Colin gasped. So that was where the triple agent had been all that time, under his very patrician nose!

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: John Hardly
Date: 28 May 03 - 03:06 PM

The night was long. It was so long that there seemed nothing short had ever resided in its long length. He waited impatiently for the night to end, but his patience finally was running out and he was beginning to look for other possibilities -- possibilities like waiting until summer when the nights would be shorter -- at least shorter in reference to the ratio of daylight to darkness, not in actual nighttime hours which would theoretically remain constant.

Suddenly the dawn broke over him like the yolk of very big, bright egg. It caught him unawares -- in his reverie over how to solve the long night dilemma he had found himself in until the sun finally arose.

"I will try to remember this from now on" He resolved to himself. "The night is never so long as it seems when you are waiting for it to end -- but it is never so short as it seems when you are trying to think of ways to make it end".

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 28 May 03 - 03:23 PM

Gawd. Truly astounding, John. We definitely have Shatnerization.

And Peter has effectively assassinated two more common genres of fiction.

- LH

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: John Hardly
Date: 28 May 03 - 03:36 PM

"Get OUT!!"

"Don't EVEN go there"

"But I'm like, I have to"

"Whoa! I said don't go there, man!"

"But I'm like 'I've gotta' and you go like, 'Don't' and I'm like..."

Thus went the conversation throughout the long commute into the city.

And so the man in the adjacent seat calmly pulled the small handgun from the front pocket of his coat, raised the short pistol barrel to his temple, and happily blew his brains out.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: GUEST,McGonagal
Date: 28 May 03 - 03:45 PM

BEAUTIFUL Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay !
With your numerous arches and pillars in so grand array
And your central girders, which seem to the eye
To be almost towering to the sky.
The greatest wonder of the day,
And a great beautification to the River Tay,
Most beautiful to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay !
That has caused the Emperor of Brazil to leave
His home far away, incognito in his dress,
And view thee ere he passed along en route to Inverness.

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay !
The longest of the present day
That has ever crossed o'er a tidal river stream,
Most gigantic to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay !
Which will cause great rejoicing on the opening day
And hundreds of people will come from far away,
Also the Queen, most gorgeous to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay !
And prosperity to Provost Cox, who has given
Thirty thousand pounds and upwards away
In helping to erect the Bridge of the Tay,
Most handsome to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay !
I hope that God will protect all passengers
By night and by day,
And that no accident will befall them while crossing
The Bridge of the Silvery Tay,
For that would be most awful to be seen
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay !
And prosperity to Messrs Bouche and Grothe,
The famous engineers of the present day,
Who have succeeded in erecting the Railway
Bridge of the Silvery Tay,
Which stands unequalled to be seen
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Ebbie
Date: 28 May 03 - 03:45 PM

Why do men, mostly men, have to use rough language to describe things that matter? To them? Like,'We've knocked the bastard off'? Why not do what women, mostly, do? They would say something like, 'It was such a thrill. The mountain is so lovely, even now.'

No. Men talk about the 'bastard'. And talk about relationships. Men talk about 'my old woman' or if she is young, 'my old lady'. If they're around women, they say, 'the wife'. Why? I could go on and on about the language they use, but I am a woman, mostly, and I can't do it.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: GUEST,The sequel
Date: 28 May 03 - 03:47 PM

The Tay Bridge Disaster
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

'Twas about seven o'clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clouds seem'd to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem'd to say-
"I'll blow down the Bridge of Tay."

When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers' hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say-
"I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay."

But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers' hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.

So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o'er the town,
Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill'd all the peoples hearts with sorrow,
And made them for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav'd to tell the tale
How the disaster happen'd on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: GUEST
Date: 28 May 03 - 03:51 PM

The motorcycle black madonna two-wheeled gypsy queen and her silver-studded phantom cause the gray flannel dwarf to scream as he weeps to wicked birds of prey who pick up on his bread crumb sins.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: katlaughing
Date: 28 May 03 - 03:51 PM

I've just entered this, twice, but it didn't take. Perhaps because it is so gawd-awful?

The Twarps were running the bar on Aaltroous when our ship set down on a long flight from Timbuk2009-V-Sector. In a flash, Gordon the pilot, aimed his Warz-tag900-Bmodel Twarp-in-ator and took them out, one, two, three, four, eventually all 500 hundred of them in the time it took the rest of us to unfold our daddy long legs, stretch our antennae and step down.

So this was Aaltroous, famous planet of the Twarps and Twidgerees and their lackeys the Salavator300.98v6s originally from over in the North4000.56 vector7. That was a long hop, about 9.34972 billion light years if I had my guestimator working right. I wondered how they'd made it. It didn't really matter, though, flashing Gordon had taken care of that. Now, they were One with their owners, the pulverised, putrid, smoking, steaming mass that had been Twarps and Twidgerees, or T&Ts, also included the Salavator300.98v6s, all 5000 of them. God, they were rank smelling.

With a knee crack and another stretch of my antennae, I scampered over to the far end of the bar and bit open a bottle of Cricket de menthe. I figured that'd be a good start on washing down the crispy critters courtesy of our dear Flash.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Jeri
Date: 28 May 03 - 04:17 PM

If one scores essays as one's way of making money to pay the septic tank people, one, like, learns some, truly, horrendouse examples of.
Writing.

There is the run-on sentence (one per 'paragraph' which Mick gave us an example of to us.)
There are John's examples, except his punctuation was like too good you know!
Then there's the condition which I like to call "Thesaurosis."

The luminescent sun oozed over the horizon. And the arborage scintillated in the day-break of an exception majestic day. And I meandered down the verdant path and like heard the miniscule fowl chirping rampantly. But then I had an epiphany that I was'nt sporting nary any adornments. Myself without coverage! So I cloaked my reproductive organs in indigenous foliage. And it was just later I absorbed that those were the wrong ivy when the urtication commenced.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Giac
Date: 28 May 03 - 04:21 PM

Once, upon a Tyme, Gillian, spelled Gillian, but pronounced Jillian (why didn't they just name her Lillian?), sat picking mites from her senslessly long trusses (damn! those hernias). There was a heaving, like an earthquake or a vomiting of a very large creature and she was hurled to the rocks. She lived, but was stopped dead as she saw Tyme fly by.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: MMario
Date: 28 May 03 - 04:25 PM

In the immortal words of my second-cousin-three-times-removed on my father's side who is also my third-cousin-four-times-removed on my mother's side,The Grand-Duchess Olga, She who has Nine heads (eight of which are not visible); Mistress of the Scorching Hot Knitting Needles (pronounced Kuh-nitting Kuh-needles, the "K" of the second work is invisible but voiced, Bane of the Clan Bailey (who has single-handledly wiped out most male Baileys in the pursuit of making Baileys Balls (her speciality)),Daughter of the Mothership Unit:


"eep!"

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 28 May 03 - 05:20 PM

I couldn't agree more, Ebbie, and I'm a man. But...why did you ask the question in this thread?

Well, anyway, here's the reason(s) why men use rough language:

They do it mainly to impress other men. It starts when they are quite young (like maybe 7 or 10 years old) They have the idea that in order to be a "man among men" they must sound rough, tough, and worldly. Their deepest fear is that the other "men" will get the idea that they are wimps, geeks, sissies, and so on...and beat them up and make their lives miserable. Worse yet, the other men might get the idea they are gay!!! (Most gay men, by the way, can swear marvelously, but they do it in a more clever fashion, usually...)

Anyway, there is considerable justification for having such fears in primary school, junior high, and even high school...where homophobic bullies abound and where aggressive stupidity is the coveted ideal amongst a majority of the male students. Believe me, I remember it well (May they all marry domineering, selfish, greedy women and rot in hell!).

So, the habit gets established early, and it just keeps getting worse. Soon a "real man" feels that he must sprinkle his everday conversation with unnecessary words like "bastard", "son of a bitch", c*nt, etc...just in order to fit in with his peers.

Frequent references to penis size (always gigantic in one's own case, always tiny in the case of another) are also considered pretty obligatory. Study Spaw's posts carefully in order to fully grasp this concept in all its tediousness. :-) (of course, he's just pretending to be an idiot...I think...)

So that's it. Men are terrified that they may not measure up in the eyes of other men, so they talk tough.

Tenuously connected to this is an allied thought in the minds of most men...namely that their tough talk will also impress women. Perhaps it does, in some cases, but I don't think it does in too many. On the other hand, being a wimp certainly doesn't impress women, so it's a tricky issue at best.

BDiBR has been struggling with this conundrum for years, and his success rate with girls remains lamentable.

It's sad.

Now back to the lousy writing! That poetry about the bridge was utterly stunning!

- LH

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Peter T.
Date: 28 May 03 - 05:47 PM

Your work, the rules are that it must be your work, horrible though it may be. yours, Peter T.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: alanabit
Date: 28 May 03 - 06:06 PM

TV Script for a soap opera (I used to translate the bloody things)
Ellie: Joe, I know this is hard...
Joe : What's hard Ellie?
Ellie: Well Joe, it's like this...
Joe : What's it like Ellie?
Ellie: I know this is going to hurt you...
Joe : What's going to hurt Ellie?
Ellie: Well, Joe, when that airliner crashed this morning it landed...
Joe : But it didn't land Ellie - It crashed...
Ellie: And when it crashed, it crashed...
Joe : Sure did Ellie...
Ellie: It crashed on your house Joe..
Joe : On my house?
Ellie: On your house Joe and your wife Rita, and little Jack and Sue were in there too...
Joe : And Rover?
Ellie: I'm afraid he passed with them...
STAGE DIRECTION: JOE LOOKS SAD.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: greg stephens
Date: 28 May 03 - 06:17 PM

I thought Ebbie's letter was an entry in the contest.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: katlaughing
Date: 28 May 03 - 06:43 PM

I thought it was, too.:-)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Peter T.
Date: 28 May 03 - 06:45 PM

The great ship, weighted down with her starboard guns helpless and smashed, slowly turned, majestic like what she was, a dying ship, The Majestic. Admiral Cornplaster, his wooden leg broken under him, cradled the wheel, and smiled, for he had one last trick in him. "Swinton!!" he howled, and through the debris, Captain Swinton, his other arm now having joined its mate at the bottom of the Mediterranean, swayed forward. "Sorry I can't salute anymore, sir," he said gamely.
"Damme, no time for saluting," spat the Admiral, "Heave the anchor to, and reef the topsails, and be smart about it."
Captain Swinton, for a moment, was sure he had misheard, amid the thunderous crashes, the yelling and screaming of dying men awash over the maststrewn deck, and then the possibility reached him too. "Gad, sir!! Will it work??"
The Admiral heaved himself over the wheelhouse, knocking Swinton into the gunwhales. "If it worked at Copenhagen, it will bloody well work here!!!!"

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: katlaughing
Date: 28 May 03 - 06:53 PM

How bloody awfull!

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Ebbie
Date: 28 May 03 - 07:09 PM

Well, durn. I can write lousily when I don't mean to but it appears when I make the effort I'm not good at it...

Little Hawk, thanks. I wasn't entirely serious in my question- but at the same time, I liked your exposition, and I think you are right. Of course you're right- who would know better: you or I? On the other hand, I seem to have some memories of what it's like to be male. Can't remember swearing, though. I must have been good.

Does this qualify? I don't feel flowery - or even lurid- today.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 28 May 03 - 10:08 PM

That's cool, Ebbie. I have memories of being female too, which is probably why I've regarded North American male cultural conditioning so skeptically in this life...matter of fact, it's downright hilarious...but not when you're in public school! :-)

I regarded school as a sort of vile bureaucratic internment camp, to be survived until adulthood set me free. I sympathize strongly with any kid who hates school.

p.s. The above is not an entry in this contest. I can write much worse than that.

p.p.s. Wasn't that dreadful stuff about the bridge written by the same Canadian poet who wrote "Ode To The Mammoth Cheese"?

- LH

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: John Hardly
Date: 28 May 03 - 10:33 PM

Cheese

Limburger makes you smell my way
Cheddar is the most I'm bound to pay
Gouda's very very extraordinary
Muenster, not the Addam's family

Jack, don't hit the road I love ya babe
Colby, just the smoky taste I'm bound to crave
Gouda's very very extraordinary
Muenster, not the Addam's family.

Bleu I serve you in my salad bowls
Swiss I stick my fingers in your holes
Gouda's very very extraordinary
Muenster, not the Addam's family.

Oh baby baby,
I'll Brie around.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Rustic Rebel
Date: 28 May 03 - 11:31 PM

I'm trying to remember what it was you wanted from me. My mind is turning gray. Even when you reminded me twice already, I forget.
I thought it was because I forgot to pay attention, but then I realize I don't have to do that anymore, because I forget anyway.
Just forget it.
My mom used to say, "If you can't remember, it couldn't have been too important".
Why was I writing this anyway? I forgot.

Peace. Rustic

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: khandu
Date: 28 May 03 - 11:45 PM

A strange kind of darkness has beseiged the town. The kind of darkness that swallows to moon which is afraid to even dare give its light for fear of revealing the dark thoughts in the darkened minds of the shallow people. The sun had wilted neath its own weariness as darkness approached, aggressive and bold, with no thought of tomorrow, only of today...THE day of dark souls spewing forth their sick, twisted, dark desires.

Then someone from the back dared to stand and shout in a loud voice, "Let there be Light".

And there was Light.

k

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Peter T.
Date: 29 May 03 - 08:36 AM

truly terrible, khandu. Almost worth getting a whole Tshirt inscribed with it -- it is so uplifting.

yours, Peter T.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 29 May 03 - 11:54 AM

Yeah. If you walked around town with that on a T-shirt it would really freak out the born-again Christians, who would be trying to decide: "Is he one of us or does he belong to some insane cult?"

- LH

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: alanabit
Date: 29 May 03 - 12:02 PM

Like...

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: MMario
Date: 29 May 03 - 12:42 PM

Rex K. Neauxt watched thee tide slowly creeping it's wiegh up the shingled beech,inch, by inch, by inch, as if it was some kind of cattapiller or something wormlike, maybe an inchworm,like the inch worms that ate his cabbage in his garden,the tide came in on kittens' feets;slowly getting closer across the sands, whetting each grain until it glistening in the sunlight,devouring the land as it came upwards on the shorline;and he wondered again as he had time and time before at other times weather or knot this time the tide would not cease to raise but continue onwards without stopping to flood the entire land as the culmination of the worldwide Dutch conspiracy to conquer the world finally reach fruit.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: GUEST,terrified by the Dutch...
Date: 29 May 03 - 12:45 PM

EEEEEYAAAAUGGHGGGH!!! GLUB! GLUB!

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: The O'Meara
Date: 29 May 03 - 01:35 PM

The poem about the Tay Bridge was written by The Great McGonigal, a Scot, who was a very bad actor and a terrible poet (as you can see) frequently referred to as the world's worst poet. He was unpopular in the late 1800s as I recall. It's rumored that Prince Phillip has his collected his complete works. He was a for real person.
    Legend has it that he once appeared onstage in Glasgow as Hamlet. When it came time for Hamlet's death scene, he couldn't stand the idea of leaving the stage so he stretched the death scene so far people in the audience shouted "Lie doon, McGonigal, lie doon!'

O'Meara

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Peter T.
Date: 29 May 03 - 02:22 PM

Finally, I want to make 3 or 4 more points before closing. I know that many of you have been galvanized into action by the innovative management process I have been outlining over the last two hours, and lunch is waiting, but it is important that I do stress these final 5 points. First, when we evaluate the importance of innovation, it is important to be clear that we are not just in the business of "important innovation", but, more critically, we are in the business of "innovating importance!!!" What do I mean by "innovating importance!!"???? As you can see on this overhead -- or, well, you could see, if the bulb weren't so dim -- but anyway, there are a number of bullets here that I want to briefly run through -- "innovating importance" means..... (mass suicide breaks out in the conference room)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: LadyJean
Date: 29 May 03 - 03:27 PM

The waves crashed against the glistening, black boulders, that lined the Cornish coast. The wind from France howled it's queer comment ca va, through the whispering sea grass. It blew Garlanda's silken skirts against her long, slender, legs. Inside her was a passion as powerful as the rolling waves, as strong as the wind on the sea. Her loins throbbed as she thought of Dirk, the virile Scot who had captured her passion.
Suddenly he was there, striding along the cliffs, his eyes glistening, as the French wind ruffled his thick corn gold locks. His skin tight trousers betraying his intentions.
"Dirk!" she moaned, trying vainly to conceal her desire. "They told me you were sailing with the tide!"
"They were wrong," he wispered, huskily, ripping open her silken bodice, to reveal her creamy bosom.
Garlanda sighed as he pushed her onto the sand. She knew this would have to be their last encounter. She was running out of bodices.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 29 May 03 - 03:54 PM

Wonderful! A friend of mine who is a very good poet admitted today that once while penniless and desperate he wrote two Harlequin romance novels under a psuedonym (something like Daphne Pendrake or Violet Haize...)...and they sold!

He made me swear not to reveal his identity under any conditions.

- LH

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: GUEST,E.M.
Date: 29 May 03 - 04:05 PM

Ode to Ms Rutledge

Penelope Rutledge, O Vision sublime!
I think of you often, and wish you were mine
I think of you tripping down library stairs
The sun on your bonnet, the wind in your hair
No melody bright could express all you are
No vision of light and no heavenly star
No sunrise at dawn could encompass your grace
No vista at twilight could e'er match your face
I sit in my room and envision you now
The queen of my conscience, the wave at my bow
My ships are all stranded, now wretched they pine
No sails on their yardarms, no grapes on my vine
My vineyards are barren, my cats have no mice
My parrot has sought therapeutic advice
My hallway is empty, my phone's on the fritz
Penelope Rutledge, I love you to bits!
My hopes they are waning, as silent I wait
Intolerably distant from fair Twillingsgate
If not for thy grace I would plunge from the skies
As an albatross falls to his final demise
Yet hope springs anew with each stroke of my pen
That my words may yet sway you, and move you, and then
That together at last we may write history
With me beside you, dear, and you beside me
Penelope Rutledge, O Vision sublime!
I think of you often, and wish you were mine

E. M. (Ever Madly in love with you...)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
From: Dave the Gnome
Date: 29 May 03 - 04:39 PM

I hope we are all singing from the same hymn book and saluting the same flag when I say, possitively and without fear of contraception, that the thing we wish to happen least or at least the thing we do not want to happen most is the event which is in the forefront of everybodies minds even though we are all treading around the issue as if on clear silicate of the fractured variety.

DON'T LET jOHN fRom 9HuLl ANYWHERE NEAR HERE...

May I wish you a felicitatious and decidedly glowing greeting in the effluvious style of my forebears, Cheers

Dave the Gnome