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'It Was a Dark & Stormy Night' Bad Writing Contest- Try Writing One!

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  • #91
    Your Wish Is My Command

    A shortishly tall, famously unknown, 28-year-old man in his early 40's, whose blotchy face complemented the redness of his fair moustache, turned up the astrakhan collar of his cutaway coat and straightened the brim of his wideawake sailor's top hat, before hunching his broad shoulders, adopting the foreign appearance of a native-born Londoner and striding furtively into the mythical fog of future inaccuracy, determined that this night the bluntness of his sharp, butcher's boning bayonet would despatch a canonical and not someone whose eligibility would be subject to endless debate by the mysterious anoraks of the future.

    Regards Bridewell.
    Last edited by Bridewell; 06-17-2012, 09:22 PM. Reason: Addition
    I won't always agree but I'll try not to be disagreeable.

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    • #92
      With trembling fingers Jack took the dripping dripping from the screwed up newspaper and smeared it thinly over Mary Kelly’s heart. Then taking his sharp knife, he thinly sliced some red onion, crushed a smidgeon of garlic and sprinkled some bits of fresh parsley over it. A dash of salt, some ground black pepper, and a bit of anything much that he found under his wideawake hat…oh, like grated ginger and cardemon and bitter chocolate and lemon..He arranged it all on top of the old kettle and lovingly placed the whole thing onto the embers of the fire. Sitting back, he suddenly contemplated the blood under his fingernails and the butchered body behind him ; « Oh why oh why is it so difficult to find fresh ingredients these days ? » thought Jack. At least this was convenience in that it was premarinated.
      Last edited by Rubyretro; 06-17-2012, 09:43 PM.
      http://youtu.be/GcBr3rosvNQ

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      • #93
        Sartorial Splendor

        Ruby, this is the Trent t-shirt I want. It's awesome!! Gotta love the manly hand-gun shaped 'R'. And that's just the right vintage hat for Trent too.

        If we wear these shirts, all us groovy Trent groupies can recognize each other and bust a few spontaneously cool chopkick/wheelkick/snapkick moves in public to express our solidarity... we'll kill each other later.

        You any good at silk-screening?

        Skrrrk!
        Archaic

        PS: Ladies Size Small or XS, Scoop-neck... maybe not powder-blue... how 'bout blood-red? Thanks.
        Attached Files

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        • #94
          they are great, but I'm no good at silk screening...but I probably know some one who is...

          I can imagine a silhouette of trent being pursued by a pack of retro secretaries.....

          Or Trent wheelkicking the Master stripper

          Or examining not-Mrs Cavendish through his science glasses
          http://youtu.be/GcBr3rosvNQ

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          • #95
            Or looking at a strange hand placed on his shoulder...


            Archaic

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            • #96
              Originally posted by Archaic View Post
              Or looking at a strange hand placed on his shoulder...


              Archaic
              Trent as Robert Paul? Naaah...

              Dave

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              • #97
                How 'bout Trent encountering Thing?



                Now that would be interesting.

                Archaic

                PS: Dang it, why did my oversized special-effects hand quit waving after only 60 seconds?

                Oh, wait, I know- frozen in fear at the dread realization of JUST WHO OWNS THAT HAT!

                - And now it's waving again! (Obviously stung by my sarcasm. )
                Last edited by Archaic; 06-27-2012, 05:30 AM.

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                • #98
                  A Contender!

                  Originally posted by Bridewell View Post
                  A shortishly tall, famously unknown, 28-year-old man in his early 40's, whose blotchy face complemented the redness of his fair moustache, turned up the astrakhan collar of his cutaway coat and straightened the brim of his wideawake sailor's top hat, before hunching his broad shoulders, adopting the foreign appearance of a native-born Londoner and striding furtively into the mythical fog of future inaccuracy, determined that this night the bluntness of his sharp, butcher's boning bayonet would despatch a canonical and not someone whose eligibility would be subject to endless debate by the mysterious anoraks of the future.

                  Regards Bridewell.
                  My God, Bridewell, that's Ripperology in a nut-shell... and you managed to cram it all into one sentence!

                  You've flung down the toffish gauntlet upon the greasy and miasmic paving setts... let's see who dares to take up the challenge!

                  Well done indeed. Detective Bridewell, go to the top of the class.

                  Best regards,
                  Archaic
                  Last edited by Archaic; 06-27-2012, 05:30 AM.

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                  • #99
                    Thanks

                    Originally posted by Archaic View Post
                    My God, Bridewell, that's Ripperology in a nut-shell... and you managed to cram it all into one sentence!

                    You've flung down the toffish gauntlet upon the greasy and miasmic paving setts... let's see who dares to take up the challenge!

                    Well done indeed. Detective Bridewell, go to the top of the class.

                    Best regards,
                    Archaic
                    I'm grateful!

                    Best Wishes, Bridewell.
                    I won't always agree but I'll try not to be disagreeable.

                    Comment


                    • Originally posted by Bridewell View Post
                      A shortishly tall, famously unknown, 28-year-old man in his early 40's, whose blotchy face complemented the redness of his fair moustache, turned up the astrakhan collar of his cutaway coat and straightened the brim of his wideawake sailor's top hat, before hunching his broad shoulders, adopting the foreign appearance of a native-born Londoner and striding furtively into the mythical fog of future inaccuracy, determined that this night the bluntness of his sharp, butcher's boning bayonet would despatch a canonical and not someone whose eligibility would be subject to endless debate by the mysterious anoraks of the future.

                      Regards Bridewell.
                      You know, Colin, I've read this a number of times now... it's brilliant.

                      The last bit about the (in?)eligible canonicals and "the mysterious anoraks of the future" is my favorite.

                      Cheers,
                      Archaic

                      PS: I feel proud to be an anorak.

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                      • Me Too

                        Originally posted by Archaic View Post
                        You know, Colin, I've read this a number of times now... it's brilliant.

                        The last bit about the (in?)eligible canonicals and "the mysterious anoraks of the future" is my favorite.

                        Cheers,
                        Archaic

                        PS: I feel proud to be an anorak.
                        So do I!

                        Regards, Bridewell.
                        I won't always agree but I'll try not to be disagreeable.

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                        • Hey Colin, won't it look 'Mysterious Anorak' look cool on our resumes?


                          Archaic

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                          • ".....adopting the foreign appearance of a native-born Londoner"

                            That would be more apt for this century.
                            This is simply my opinion

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                            • If anyone wants to dive into the abysses of bad writing, read erotic fan fiction.

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                              • You want 'Bad'? Try the Original 'Meerkat Manor'

                                "Erotic fan fiction"? Is that what they call the atrocious supposedly 'sexy' amateur fiction dedicated to celebrities? Ugh.

                                One of my favorite examples of Bad Fiction, not to mention outright Plagiarism, occurs in the cheeseball Romance novel 'Shadow Bear'. (No, I don't read Romance novels, but I do love the oh-so-artistic illustrations on the cover, where every guy looks like a steroid-addled Fabio! )

                                The author lifted a huge section of a scholarly article published on the topic of Meerkats, and adroitly turned it into the clunkiest, most ludicrous pillowtalk ever.

                                This is the incident that inspired the phrase 'Meerkat Manor'.



                                So bad it's great!

                                Cheers,
                                Archaic
                                Last edited by Archaic; 07-14-2012, 02:31 AM.

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