B&B Bulwer-Lytton Great Shaving Novel Contest!!!

[ctakim]

As I was remarking on the impressively creative literary talents present on this board, I got the idea to start an Edward George Bulwer-Lytton Great Shaving Novel contest. If you are not aware, there is an annual contest for the worst opening sentence to a novel that is held by the English Department at San Jose State Univ. (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bulwer-Lytton_Fiction_Contest)

Bulwer-Lytton was the 19th century British popular novelist who started his novel "Paul Clifford" with the oft-quoted line:

"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."

What if Bulwer-Lytton wrote a shaving novel?? So here we go with a contest to come up with the best (worst) opening line to a novel with the important caveat is that it has to be shaving related!

 

[ctakim]

Here is my entry:

"It was a dark and stormy morning; the Penhaligon’s English Fern soap lather fell in torrents from my Rooney 3/1 Super Badger Brush, its exquisite scent wafting through the bushy clumps of hair in my nostrils, where it was occasionally checked by a violent gust of flatulent wind swept up from my pajama bottoms (for it is in my bathroom that our early morning scene lies), rattling my overly stocked medicine cabinet full of Tabac, Williams, and Wool Fat, and fiercely agitating the scanty flim of Lilac Vegetal remaining in my nearly empty container, which strugged and succeeded in overcoming the many competing pungent smells to fill the room with the unmistakable scent of cat pee."

 

[jrowen]

Here is my entry:

"It was a dark and stormy morning; the Penhaligon’s English Fern soap lather fell in torrents from my Rooney 3/1 Super Badger Brush, its exquisite scent wafting through the bushy clumps of hair in my nostrils, where it was occasionally checked by a violent gust of flatulent wind swept up from my pajama bottoms (for it is in my bathroom that our early morning scene lies), rattling my overly stocked medicine cabinet full of Tabac, Williams, and Wool Fat, and fiercely agitating the scanty flim of Lilac Vegetal remaining in my nearly empty container, which strugged and succeeded in overcoming the many competing pungent smells to fill the room with the unmistakable scent of cat pee."

 

[Rughi]

I think Joel may have anticipated this contest with this prose from 2005:

I began fondling the haft of the shaving badger apparatus starting with the crown. I commenced working the wet blended mix from the cube (to create saponification for you morons out there) with protein emollients to thicken the paste before I cut it. I toil at my hand and mash the bucket of my Simpsons Polo 12 (bow down to me plebeian’s) silvertip badger shaving broom apparatus. I am covered in dookie-smelling “slag”– and I don’t know why. At this point – just as I prepare to cut the shaving terrain with my steel I hear a loud thunder as my thesaurus explodes and encompasses my house in a hellacious ball of fire.​

Roger

 

[Doc4]

Armageddon and the Apocalypse were upon us! All the fires of Hell burned the earth with an intensity not to be imagined. Devastation rained down on all quarters, with such ferocity that nothing was left and all was ruin and despair. Suddenly, everything stopped, and the earth was still again. I put the bottle down. “Wow”, I said, “that bay rum really stings.”

 

[ctakim]

I think Joel may have anticipated this contest with this prose from 2005:

I began fondling the haft of the shaving badger apparatus starting with the crown. I commenced working the wet blended mix from the cube (to create saponification for you morons out there) with protein emollients to thicken the paste before I cut it. I toil at my hand and mash the bucket of my Simpsons Polo 12 (bow down to me plebeian’s) silvertip badger shaving broom apparatus. I am covered in dookie-smelling “slag”– and I don’t know why. At this point – just as I prepare to cut the shaving terrain with my steel I hear a loud thunder as my thesaurus explodes and encompasses my house in a hellacious ball of fire.​

Roger

Nice, (although I won't admit that I don't understand any of it!), but visceral impact is great!!

 

[ctakim]

Armageddon and the Apocalypse were upon us! All the fires of Hell burned the earth with an intensity not to be imagined. Devastation rained down on all quarters, with such ferocity that nothing was left and all was ruin and despair. Suddenly, everything stopped, and the earth was still again. I put the bottle down. “Wow”, I said, “that bay rum really stings.”

Exactly in the spirit of Bulwer-Lytton! Well done sir!!

 

[eldonanda]

FWIW

She couldn’t quite place the blood, given the Charlie Manson crazed look I tossed like a salad at her, no swastika of course, but the relentless weeper had morphed into a crimson ooze, dribbling like Oscar Robertson through the man-to-man defense of my three-day stubbled chin – the gore now whispering to her of the painful repercussions from a sloppy raspberry snow-cone (and a first kiss!) on a long-lost but never forgotten July 4th weekend in Biloxi.

 

[BroJohn]

...suddenly a shot rang out. (and I got 'writers block')

-- John Gehman

 

[Mack]

Chik, chik, chik, the blade flew over his face, against the grain, like the accusations she hurled at him the night before when her words stung like bay rum and she badgered him into admitting his faults until at last, the brush off was accomplished in the nick of time.

 

[Bertilak]

The Big Two Edged Razor

by E. Shavinghisway​

Nick walked through the deserted hallway. The morning sun was just starting to light the far end, by the bathroom with its east-facing window.

Nick stepped into the bathroom. He was there in the good place. In the mirror a face covered in stubble stared back.

The wet badger hair easily loaded up with soap from the mug and felt good when Nick scrubbed it onto his wet face.

The razor felt heavy in his hand. It was a good feeling. It had a fresh feather blade. He remembered his father telling him how the Indians made blades from chips of obsidian.

Suddenly, a shot rang out! The maid screamed! A door slammed shut!

Nick carefully finished his shave. It was warm and peaceful in the sun-lit bathroom.

 

[FL shaver]

for the Hemingway entry! I wanted more!