It will be my most profound pleasure to explain to all interested parties, and I know deep down this includes all the people in the world possessing even the slightest whiff of intelligence, why exactly George Dubya Bush, as he is fondly called by his proud citizens, is the best thing that ever happened to the beloved United States, and, as a natural consequence, the rest of the world as well.
Try and beat that for a worst opening paragraph.
I of course failed to realize Lord Ellpus would cheat by quoting the opening paragraphs of 'erotic litter-ature.'
In a world where people could get together just like the little drops of olive oil do on the top of the sphagetti water, you know, like they do when you stir and stir before the water boils, if you just let them be for a second they gather together like those big herds of people Conan the Barbarian used to live with and they all make one big oily spot, floating in a sea of tranquillity that will soon boil over with bubbles and everything, that world.
Joe(it could be a movie)Nation
"This is a recipe book that most of us, busy with our lives and our horses and often without full-time assistance in the kitchen, can utilize to compose quick yet enjoyable meals that are suitable for weekdays and, still, can be served to our honored guests at weekend fetes when we open our villas."
The woman who wrote this must be made extinct. She is passing on allelic variants of the Hd432 _N gene , often called the "3rd generation lazy Walton gene".
"F**king God-d***d son of a b***h piece of s**t motherf**ker a**hole c**ksmoking f**krod c*mguzzler s**teating a**stretcher!" he shouted, bringing the church service to a halt.
"If you love me," she breathed breathlessly, "then tell me you love me with all the love that has ever been loved." He moved closer to her, wrapping his throbbing arms around her anemic waist. "I love you like love has never loved, nor thought to love," he whispered lovingly, caressing her strawlike hair with his heaving hand. "Love never loved like I loved you then, love you now, and will love you until love no longer loves, which is never."
She slowly ran her lush tongue over her juicy, berry red lips and looked at him sexily through thick mascaraed lashes. He still wasn't looking at her so she flicked her hair over one shoulder and straightened her back so her large, pendulous boobs were an inch from his face. From behind her there was a scream. She turned and saw Bob with his hands over the left side of his face... oh, her hair nearly took his eye out.
Tham Thmith firtht notithed that there wath a problem when he looked back at the firtht word and realithed that he had purchathed a computer that wrote with a lithp. The athithtant had told him that it wath thold to them by a thenior conthultant from thyracuthe, where they all thpoke like that. He angrily thucked on hith thigar, and thlurped hith thathpirilla. He wath croth, and would thoon thet out to get thatithfaction.
She was nervous, watching the critic looking her painting over with a critiquing eye, as critics are often want to do. "Hmm," he said, moving to see it in a different light. "Huhm. Hmmm. Mmmm. Hmmm? Hrmmm." He continued to move back and forth in front of the painting, eyeing it with his critical eye. "Mmmm. Hmmm. Huuuuh. Hrmmm." Suddenly, he stopped in midstride and stepped back. He eyed the painting for a moment with his critical eye. "Hmmm," he said, as he resumed his pacing.
D. H. Lawrence, though dead, must be green, a yellowish slimey green, with envy.
We aim to please. Or nauseate.
"Pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant." It was a hot day, and the dog was thirsty.
French. No, German. Or maybe Lithuanian. The tourist's nationality was as difficult to fathom as his gender. Or hers.
It was a dark and stormy night. Well, maybe not so dark, since it was only one o'clock in the afternoon. But it was stormy. Okay, not so stormy. But it was sprinkling outside. One of those sprinkles where you might have to turn on your wipers momentarily if you ran to the store and back. So, it was a bright, lightly misting day. Yeah. Suddenly, a shot rang out, followed by a scream! Maybe not so much a shot, as a muted bang. See, you're hearing this from the point of view of the hero, who was at his desk, and, naturally, in a building made of glass and stone, and since the shooting didn't happen in his office, it would be muted to him, and therefore you. So it was more like a light thud. And the scream, you wouldn't hear that very well. Or at all, since the hotel where the shooting happened was down the street. Maybe you heard the gunshot, though. We'll go with the gunshot, but not the scream. So. It was a bright, lightly misting day. Suddenly . . . hold on. It really wasn't sudden that the gun went off, causing the light thud you are about to hear. I mean, the killer had been planning this for days, so at least he knew. It wasn't sudden to him. It was a bright, lightly misting day. A light thud was heard, followed by what may or may not have been a scream. The private detective couldn't be sure, since his window was closed, and he couldn't react fast enough after the light thud to open the window in time to hear if it really was a scream or just a bird.
Boris first realised that he had reached puberty when he saw that he stood head and shoulders above Mama. His voice hadn't broken yet, and he still had no winkie to speak of, but he was determined to speak with Papa about being allowed to wear long trousers when he started his banking job on Monday. "Mama, I'm going to raise the trouser issue with Papa" he blurted, hoping for some advice on how to broach the subject.
"I suppose we should have told you this before" replied Mama "Your Father always wanted a boy, so we changed the name on your birth certificate from Doris, now go upstairs and put on that brassiere I bought you, you're startling the staff."
It was dark out. Not your normal, "I can't see" kind of dark. The kind of dark where if some mug wandered up with a mind to belt you in the mush, he could. You'd never see it coming. It was so dark, I couldn't see where I was going. It was so dark, I couldn't remember where I was going. Or why I was going there. Or where I even was. It was going to be a long night.
Havn't written openning chapter, but Ruth and I decided the best/worst title we could come up with was; I'LL CRY TOMORROW, TEARS FOR YESTERDAY
Fab - isn't it?
Evenin' Ellpus x
Sounds like a James Bond movie.
She heard the front door slam and elephantine feet head for the stairs. Thump Thump Thump... up went the heavy feet. Suddenly there was a Crash Bang Boom... she started laughing, she laughed so hard she had to bend over at the waist and tears spurted from her eyes. Dimly, she was aware of the person on the stairs laughing, too. This made her laugh harder. Her stomach began to hurt. It began to spasm... but still she laughed. As did the person on the stairs. Now both were laughing so hard they were on the floor and neither could make a sound.
Her daughter was a lummox... always falling up the stairs. She lived for when she came home from school.
