Skip to content

The 2003 Lyttle Lytton Contest#

Click here to restore commentary

The 2003 Winners

For centuries, man had watched the clouds; now, they were watching him.

It was possibly the least overtly wacky of the lot, but I find it marvelous.  But just as deserving would have been any of these runners-up:

It was just like Jack the Ripper, only, this time, Jack was a she, and possibly some form of time-traveller.

Devin O’Reilly

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; I know that’s a contradiction but bear with me.

Francis Heaney

Sing, O Muse, of Tiffany’s wrath on Triple Coupon Day.

Naomi Chana

It happened exactly like this… well, maybe not exactly, but I’m fairly confident about the major points—​not that I was there, though.

Gordon Farrell

The Berman Prize for suggesting a novel I really, really wouldn’t want to read goes to:

Michael had always wanted to lactate.

Jennifer Arnold

And the inaugural (and possibly final, because this sort of thing could get old quick) Montfort Medal for amusing reference to the sentence’s own production or consumption goes to:

I really hope you like this book, because I wrote the whole thing totally naked!

Dan Sandler

Now for some honorable mentions.  Starting with an example of the ever-popular hint-at-something-gross genre:

Indubitably, this was not the sort of soup that engendered wholesome thoughts of energetic eating.

Alex Smaliy

I’m sure this is the actual beginning of a filmstrip currently lost under 45 years of cobwebs in a midwestern high school library:

The inner workings of the kidney, which you will no doubt find quite interesting, can, albeit shocking to some, be downright astonishing to others.

Mark Musante

In retrospect, Grace realized she probably shouldn’t have fucked a Republican.

M. Waggoner

A dose of sage advice:

“Son, defenestration is your only option.”

Rob Harris

And finally, one from the “meaningless if you don’t get the reference, but really funny if you do” ranks:

Thirty days left, forty nine thousand nine hundred eighty seven words to go.

Dan Schmidt

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—​except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.  Steeling himself for battle, Fyandor, the oldest and bravest of the lamps, proclaimed, “Nay, foul wind, this will not be the night of our extinguishment!”

anonymous

“…oldest and bravest of the lamps…”  Ha!  Then there’s our runner-up:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—​except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.  The lamps weren’t the only ones struggling—​indoors, I was having the dickens of a time unhooking my betrothed’s Gordian knot of a bra.

Jim Berry

Others that were more creative (and funnier) than most included:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—​except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.  After blinking wordlessly at the scene for a few moments, Clarence exclaimed “This screen-saver sucks ass!” and switched back to the flying toasters.

Mark Silcox

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—​except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.  Likewise, gusts of faith checked torrents of blahs, agitating Beth’s innermost hope lamps—​get it?

Peter Berman

Many entries attempted to mimic the narrative voice of the first sentence as closely as possible.  The best of these were this:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—​except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.  A cloaked figure stepped off the sidewalk (for it is in a puddle that we continue our scene) and a splash soaked his trousers.

Mark Musante

And this:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—​except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.  Our other scene, containing seemingly unrelated characters and events to those in the London scene (but which will become integral later), takes place in Tahiti.

Charles Gerlach

The location-switching trick was popular, and sometimes amusingly executed, as with:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—​except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.  Meanwhile, elsewhere, in Paris perhaps, it was less dark but also stormier.

Joe Mason

And:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—​except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.  Actually, I was just kidding; our scene lies in El Paso.

Dan Sandler

As with Contest A, we had a “hilarious if you get it, bewildering if you don’t” entry:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—​except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.  To unbendingly trudge through pelting precipitation, turn to Page 17.

Peter Berman

But most entries fell into the “quick undercut” category, with second sentences like “Or so it seemed.” and “The end.” and such.  Some of the better ultra-short ones included:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—​except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.  And me without my umbrella.

Dan Schmidt

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—​except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.  Bob triple-checked the weatherstripping.

Naomi Chana

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—​except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.  Things were mighty atmospheric, you see.

Duncan Stevens

But the purest of the ultra-shorts, and a nice capstone to the whole contest, is this:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—​except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.  Yup… dark and stormy.

Francis Heaney

And that’s it for the 2003 Lyttle Lytton contest.  Many thanks to all the entrants!  See you in 2004!

comment on
Tumblr

reply via
email

support
this site

return to
Lyttle Lytton