Ladies and gents, we present to you the official Worst Sentence of 2012:
As he told her that he loved her she gazed into his eyes, wondering, as she noted the infestation of eyelash mites, the tiny deodicids burrowing into his follicles to eat the greasy sebum therein, each female laying up to 25 eggs in a single follicle, causing inflammation, whether the eyes are truly the windows of the soul; and, if so, his soul needed regrouting.
The squirmer above was written by Cathy Bryant of Manchester, England, a contestant in the annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest — “where WWW means Wretched Writers Welcome.” The challenge: Write the worst opening to an imaginary novel.
Check out the other winners here. It’s a fall-out-of-your-seat-hilarious lesson in how not to write a simile.
The stifling atmosphere inside the Pink Dolphin Bar in the upper Amazon Basin carried barely enough oxygen for a man to survive – humid and thick the air was and full of little flying bugs, making the simple act of breathing like trying to suck hot Campbell’s Bean with Bacon soup through a paper straw. —Greg Homer
The drugged parrots pelted the village like a hellish rain of feathered fanny packs stuffed with claws and porridge, rendering Claudia’s makeshift rabbit-skin umbrella more symbolic than anything else. —Jeff Colburn
Suzanne Fondrie, who won last year’s competition, sent Bryant her congratulations: “I take pleasure in passing the guttering torch of Bad Writing to this year’s winner. May you write long and badly, Cathy!”