She'd been strangled with a rosary--not a run-of-the-mill rosary like you might get at a Catholic bookstore where Hail Marys are two for a quarter and indulgences are included on the back flap of the May issue of Nuns and Roses magazine, but a fancy heirloom rosary with pearls, rubies, and a solid gold cross, a rosary with attitude, the kind of rosary that said, "Get your Jehovah's Witness butt off my front porch."
Dane worked the Spyrograph furiously, first red, then green, then red again, and finally blue; the pattern he sought was in there somewhere, and the correct combination would open the doors to a euphoria only known to dogs getting their stomachs scratched and parakeets viewing themselves in the mirror.
My tongue moistened my parched lips and my stomach started to churn as I hungrily admired Leslie's hair, which loosely resembled my great aunt Betty's daughter Cornelia's famous tuna casserole--brown, dry and crisp around the edges, yellow and creamy in the center with just a hint of grease spilling out over the top.
Hector had just met Sabina minutes before, and yet there they were, knees touching, faces just inches apart in the dimly-lit room, and her gazing deep into his eyes, which should not have been a surprise to either of them given that she was an ophthalmologist and he was a boxer whose left retina may have become detached the night before when "Mad Dog" Washington clocked him with a vicious right cross.
Redwood Shores, CA
Saturday, August 18, 2007
The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest has released the 2007 winners. This contest is named for the author who once began a novel, "It was a dark and stormy night." The contest is for the worst opening sentence for a novel, and the entries this year are typically over-enthusiastic and hilarious. Here are some great examples: