Any of you ever enter the Bulwer-Lytton contest for worst opening lines? Or will you perhaps not tell me if you did? Well, I freely admit that I have done so, not once, not twice, but three times. I never even got honorably mentioned, and am not sure whether to be relieved or aggrieved. Below, in order of my least favorite to most favorite, are my three entries, appropriately numbered. Now, tell me, how could these not have brought fame to my name?
1. Humankind’s return to the moon ended in a tortured scream of rending metal as the descending spaceship plunged off course and slammed a new crater into the lunar surface, sending up a cloud of dust that drifted slowly downwind.
2. For the very first time in her short, trailer-park life, Gemini Darling was very pleased that her nose looked like a truffle, for she knew how very very much Lord Jackson Smythe adored chocolate.
3. Life had begun kicking Ernie Blaize in the nuts back before his testicles even descended into his scrotum, and when the blizzard wrapped itself around his car like a used condom, and the snow began splatting against his window like infected snot, Ernie knew that life was about to get really bad.
But what is this number four, you ask? Maybe it’s my next year’s entry. Or maybe it’s just the beginning of a new novel, which I am sure will be my best.
4. The interval lay cold and lightlessly forbidding within the context of the evening's activities, which were of the extended variety of lifestyles that characterizes the loss of habitat in subordinate species, which occurs mainly in the Tropics of Capricorn where Micronesia is extant and the people sometimes have blue eyes and build funny little statues that are not like the pot-bellied figurines of the Olmec, probably because the interstellar intelligences that contacted them were not of the same continuum and maybe not even from the same movie.