"She resolved to end the love affair with Ramon tonight . . . summarily, like Martha Stewart ripping the sand vein out of a shrimp's tail . . . though the term "love affair" now struck her as a ridiculous euphemism . . . not unlike "sand vein," which is after all an intestine, not a vein . . . and that tarry substance inside certainly isn't sand . . . and that brought her back to Ramon."
Welcome to the Wazzzaaapp Bulwer-Lytton clone contest. Here is last years grand champion:
Place your entry below, judging is ongoing and arbitrary, vote for yourself a million times - see where it gets ya!
oh yeah, there is no vote-thingy.
Mac was the crustiest ex-LAPD homicide detective with three ex-wives, two mortgages, a greedy daughter wasting time at college, a gay son playing acid-blues punk in some Sacramento dive, and a liver that had been bitch slapped by cheap vodka so many times it looked like a bag of yellow fat, who ever walked into my floral and gift shop.
?Sisyphus?, intoned young Marlon, as he used the recently honed tip of his great-uncle's rapier to sweetly stroke the golden tresses of the nubile yet ever so emotionally obtuse Gwendolyn, who had only recently emerged rapturously from the clutches of her overbearing and wooden marriage, ?was not really such a bad dude, dude.?
Into the abyss I ran, with taser in hand, without a plan, just like a man, luckily knowing Fortran, I targeted Stan, a bloated bank note I coded.