Here are more worthy entries that were submitted to the Deseret Morning News Bad Writing Contest.
ADVENTURE
As Capshaw hacked his way through the jungle undergrowth with his machete, the leaves overhead dripped water down the back of his neck, causing a sensation not unlike someone spritzing you with a spray bottle as a practical joke to make you think that someone right behind you has sneezed too much too close to your neck, which reminded Capshaw rather too much of his college roommates and their shenanigans, and he began wishing that he had followed their less-than-stellar academic examples, rather than excelling as he had, leading to his becoming a celebrated cartographer and the latest to attempt to plot the Impenetrable (and decidedly Soggy) Forest — although on the other hand, he did enjoy the job perks, like having his own machete, so he began whistling and toiled on in much better, if not drier, spirits.
—Elizabeth Ellis
Dan's day took a turn for the worse when he found out that the alluring belly dancer who worked in the food court and who he had frequently given free carousel tokens to had quit and run off to join the Naval Reserve.
—Penny Bowler
LITERARY
He crossed the intersection of his life, not a metaphorical intersection used to represent the passage of one thought to the next, just a normal intersection that happened to be at the corner of "His Street" and "Life Avenue."
—Tanner Remsberg
Rain drizzled down the window pane, like hot maple syrup down a stack of very glass-like smooth-sided pancakes.
—David Howard
As Craig stood before the two doors marked "Damned if you do" and "Damned if you don't," he thought about other decisions he had made and how his life would probably be different if he had made different decisions; like the time he chose the wool-blend suit instead of the 100% wool suit, or the time he bought the Chevy instead of Ford, or the time he ordered the spaghetti with marinara sauce instead of the Alfredo sauce.
—Brian West
ROMANCE
"Oh yes, oh yes," moaned Janeen, her eyes closed, her feverish mind swimming in the flotsam and jetsam of lost morals piling up in a giant heap of roses by the wayside until she realized it wasn't Clyde licking her face, but Stentor, his rare spotted Malamute.
—Alvin Wirthlin
When Marsha and John started running toward each other across a flowery meadow in slow motion and with arms outstretched she had no way of knowing that he was running to warn her about the shovel he had left somewhere in her path while filling gopher holes, and since he had forgotten to put on his glasses he never found out what she looked like before she tripped and landed on her face and never knew that she had seen his face since she had remembered to wear her glasses, but fortunately, head injuries cause amnesia, and so they fell in love — her with the way he fed her Jell-O and he with the way she looked in that hospital gown.
—Laura Wall
"Will you marry me?" Hector gasped as he bent down on one knee with ring in hand, eagerly awaiting Mathilda's reply, much like one would wait for the peppermint to come with the bill at the end of a cheap meal in a sit-down restaurant in a college town where you don't even get the chocolate mints but those cheap peppermints and sometimes even a Dum Dum.
—Beth Sallay
CHICK LIT
She stood alone at the sink and felt like throwing in the towel, but suddenly realized the towel was red and she was washing whites.
—Carol Zacher
CHILDREN'S
You expect me to be as nimble as a lost boy, a fat, 59-year-old Peter thought in silent response (as he brushed potato chips off his chubby chops) to Wendy's nagging that the LEAST he could do was fly down and pick up the dry-cleaning; after all, it was she who had forced him to grow up in the first place.
—Patricia Norwood
It was most unfortunate he would choose that very moment to display his comic talents — just as he began to tell his best knock-knock joke, there was a loud rap on the door, abruptly bringing an end to both his joke and his evening with the princess, as the king, who appreciated neither comedians nor would-be suitors, marched into the room.
—Paige Upstill
DARK AND STORMY NIGHT
It was a dark and stormy night when she burst into my office — past the door proclaiming "Herbert Hubert, Private Detective" in faded gold letters — her wet floral print dress clinging to her body, her hair stringy and wet, and from her first breath (the) words, "I can't find my gerbil," I knew that this would be another ordinary case, and I was right.
—Terry Haws
"It was a dark and stormy night" was how I had thought to begin my potentially Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, but having discovered through my copious reading of materials of all genre, i.e., mysteries, romance, sci fi, biographies, histories, etc., etc., etc., that this phrase had already been used once — maybe twice — maybe three times, and not wanting to be redundant, repetitive or superfluous, and hoping for a fresh, attention-grabbing opening that would say the same thing in a fresh, attention-grabbing way, I opted to look for and subsequently determined to use this alternate beginning: "It was storming outside that night and it was really dark."
—Doris S. Moir
REVENGE FANTASY
He just stood there, shifting his weight uncomfortably and looking me in the eye with a pathetic, pleading look like I had just told him his walker-confined grandmother had been yanked into a back alley and mugged at knife-point, but I knew he wasn't sorry, because I could sense true regret and there lay none behind those big brown eyes, under that depressing comb-over — just a cold, calculating villain who, puke-green argyle sweater or not, was going to pay the $4.50 late fee.
—Steve Rammell
TECHNICAL
The subject of non-linear multi-dimensional partial differential equations is not as chronically boring as most unenlightened and ignorant people believe.
—Terry Haws
PARENTING
Someone once told her that Motherhood is like being pecked to death slowly by a duck, but if this were true, should she really keep trying to get all her ducks in a row?
—Tammy Runia
HORROR
He pulled his ragged vehicle to a squealing stop, the brakes crying out in protest, before the dark and snaggled-tooth gates of the distant mansion that stood like an aloof mausoleum, dark against the cloud-tossed sky, and anxiously jabbed a finger, the nail of which was bitten to the bloody quick, against the blind and unresponding call button, fear rising in his breast like an acidic bile that threatened to fill his throat with a life-destroying poison as he realized that he was being denied his all-consuming drive to deliver with all dispatch a cargo that was as desirous as the apple in the Garden before the agreement expired, that knowledge leaving him with the heart-wrenching realization that he would have to accept defeat and to leave his destination knowing that his failure to meet the time constraint would mean that those waiting at the door to that foreboding villa, their evil souls filled with unholy glee, would get their pizza free.
—Jerry Stone
LEGAL THRILLER
Kitch and kin would never pause when talking in his presence because Roscoe would guess what the person was about to say, blurting out what he thought the next phrase would be until that fateful day last May 15th when Gladys, Roscoe's long-suffering wife, who could take it no more, having been cut off mid-thought, just as she began to talk about over-crowding in the state prison, turned toward him and sternly said, "Roscoe, you are worse than the parole board — you never let anyone finish a sentence."
—Brian M. Barnard