I've won the Golden Spitball Award in Phoenix for my Bulwer-Lytton entries. Last time I entered in Chicago, they said myself, and a friend from my writer's group, win the award for "too good for this contest!". I remember using my friend's line:
"The wind moved across the grass like a thing alive, which of course, it was."
Another time, two friends of mine were suffering sleep deprivation, con silliness, and a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. We passed around an index card, each of us writing one line, and winning the Golden Spitball. I have no idea what we wrote for our first entry. My friend's second entry was this, however:
There once was a ninja turtle named Fred Who took Miss O'Neill to bed. He tried to teach her ninja, But it screamed and it pinched-a, Till Fred's little ninja face turned red.
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"The wind moved across the grass like a thing alive, which of course, it was."
Another time, two friends of mine were suffering sleep deprivation, con silliness, and a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. We passed around an index card, each of us writing one line, and winning the Golden Spitball. I have no idea what we wrote for our first entry. My friend's second entry was this, however:
There once was a ninja turtle named Fred
Who took Miss O'Neill to bed.
He tried to teach her ninja,
But it screamed and it pinched-a,
Till Fred's little ninja face turned red.