The winning copier, Bonnie Furlong, wrote a humorous and creative piece that, frankly, boots mine right out of the water. (I’m going to risk sounding bitter — although, who cares, I lost a contest, I have a right to be a little sad — and note, without exaggeration, that the winning story in every single writing contest I’ve entered has been a story about writing a story. I’m not making a judgment call here, I’m simply making a statement. I think I know my angle for the next contest I enter. It’s an approach that allows creativity, yet is accessible and very much plays to the humor and wit of the judges.)
“To be sure,” cried she, playfully, “And is she, at seventeen, just entering into life, just beginning to be known, to be wondered at because she does not accept the first offer she receives? No—Pray let her have time to look about her.”10
Miss Habersham in her turn repeating and paraphrasing and he thought how it was not really a paucity a meagreness of vocabulary, it was in the first place because the deliberate violent blotting out obliteration of human life was itself so simple and so final that the verbiage which surrounded it enclosed it insulated it intact into the chronicle of man had of necessity to be simple and uncomplex too, repetitive, almost monotonous even; and in the second place, vaster than that, adumbrating that, because what Miss Habersham paraphrased was simple truth, not even fact and so there was not needed a great deal of diversification and originality to express it because truth was universal, it had to be universal truth and so there didn’t need to be a great deal of it just to keep running something no bigger than one earth and so anybody could know truth; all they had to do was just to pause, just to stop, just to wait11.
Then she gave a little cry and clapped her hands and said, “Git on away from here, dog! Look! Look at that dog!”14
The couple who sought a secluded, green spot in the late summer shade discovered they had brought home unexpected souvenirs17
“I was heartshatteringly et cetera to confront my doggy friend again.”18
Confused, the explorers looked at one another19. A hot and mean and bitchy desert with a naturally formed misanthropic mood seemed to be saying well Loop good buddy, how you want it dished up, scorpion bite, rattlesnake, order anything you see, it seemed to be whispering in the voice of the rude hash slinger of the rockbottom dives of our lives20.
His mistress and secretary, Francine Pefko, had thirty-seven-inch hips, a thirty-inch waist, and a thirty-nine-inch bosom25.
Most men have had the experience of watching a game with a woman who really isn’t interested26. The possessor and the possessed, looming death and the frail maiden27. The “sin” in the sex act is not that of love but that of parentage28. Of course teenagers don’t know about that kind of stuff and they just have to learn. They must be taught29.
They would go together into the future, and the unknown tragedy that must have darkened the past would be lost forever down the dim corridors of prehistoric time30.