Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest -- 2006 Results...
Special Salute to Breasts Category:
As she sashayed out of the police station, her high heels clicking a staccato rhythm on the hard tile floor, like a one-armed castanet player in a very bad mariachi band, her ample bosom held in check only by a diaphanous blouse, and bouncing at each step like a 1959 tricked out Low-rider Chevy with very good hydraulics---she smiled to herself as she thought of the titillating interrogation from Detective Tipple about the Twin Peaks Melon Heist.
Context Here.
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In a "somewhat related" salute...
Amanda leaves Rocketboom!
Say it ain't so Amanda Unboomed! Say it ain't so!
For Amanda's archive footage, click here.
Another reason why Amanda is dear to The Hubbub...
As she sashayed out of the police station, her high heels clicking a staccato rhythm on the hard tile floor, like a one-armed castanet player in a very bad mariachi band, her ample bosom held in check only by a diaphanous blouse, and bouncing at each step like a 1959 tricked out Low-rider Chevy with very good hydraulics---she smiled to herself as she thought of the titillating interrogation from Detective Tipple about the Twin Peaks Melon Heist.
Context Here.
------------------------------------------------------------------
In a "somewhat related" salute...
Amanda leaves Rocketboom!
Say it ain't so Amanda Unboomed! Say it ain't so!
For Amanda's archive footage, click here.
Another reason why Amanda is dear to The Hubbub...
posted by CJM at 1:01 PM
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8 Comments:
Wow, CJM, that is some impressive writing about hard-boiled ta-ta's!
You've inspired me to submit one under the "Pretentious and Impossible to Read Novels" category:
Stately, plump Muck Bulligan bounded out the back door of the Dublin Opera house (for this story takes place on Bloomsday in a city made famous by Guinness, copious freckles and James Joyce) with a tuba hidden under his waterproof mack drawing side-long glances from music lovers who said things like, "Gee, luv, didn't know it was supposed to rain tonight, did you?" to their spouses, and, as he trampled it under foot into a tangled mass of brass and piping and left it in front of the house of ex-friend Stephen, the musican who stole his wife, he yelled up to the windows as loud as he bloody could, "Leave me 'cause I can't play the tuba, will ya!! Well," he snarled, "Now HE can't either!!"
Smelly, You DO realize that that wasn't my creative effort don't you? I'm just a cut and paste guy; I got that bit from here (just scroll down a bit). As for your truly creative and original work above, it quite simply begs the question: "how does your mind work?"
CJM is hereby docked 1 original posting credit.
Slag, you'll need to explain that to our new readers (and potential future Contributors). What was that agreed upon posting rule that governs the site?
To our readers (and any future contributors), my last comment refers The Hubbub's self-imposed posting guidelines of no more than 5 posts refencing another source to every 1 post of original material submitted by a blog member.
This keeps our blog bakery fresh, and limits the number of metaphorical day-old donuts you'll have to sift through on our site before finding something hot, delicous and right out of the oven.
Most of our members get around this restriction by simply not posting at all.
No docking of credit is necessary, guys.. CJM should simply change his posting name to Major Wayne Spivey, USAF retired, of Huntsville, Texas. There. Problem solved.
Here's a hot, delicious donut right out of the oven:
"Brother as you ramble through life,
whatever be your goal,
keep your eye on the donut,
and not on the hole."
Sincerely,
Major Wayne Spivey, USAF retired
Huntsville, TX
Spivey, you're a genius!
A short nugget of eternal wisdom AND a koan of Homeric (Simpson not the old Greek guy) proportion! For the paradox revealed is that most guys would probably think about holes more than donuts (wink wink nudge nudge).
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