“As he told her that he loved her she gazed into his eyes, wondering, as she noted the infestation of eyelash mites, the tiny deodicids burrowing into his follicles to eat the greasy sebum therein, each female laying up to 25 eggs in a single follicle, causing inflammation, whether the eyes are truly the windows of the soul; and, if so, his soul needed regrouting.”
This vile word concoction, penned by Cathy Bryant of Manchester, England, was officially crowned The Worst Sentence of 2012. Contestants who entered the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest were challenged to write the worst opening line to an imaginary novel. Congratulations Cathy, this is absolutely disgusting. The phrase “greasy sebum” might have just put me off food for the rest of the day. I wonder if the rest of her novel existed, if it would be a Harlequin horror where people in love were plagued to blindness by a rare breed of flesh-eating eyelash mites. That cold be fun, I’m totally entering this contest next year. There are too many good writers out there, the world needs more crappy ones. After the jump, some other worst sentence winners.
The stifling atmosphere inside the Pink Dolphin Bar in the upper Amazon Basin carried barely enough oxygen for a man to survive – humid and thick the air was and full of little flying bugs, making the simple act of breathing like trying to suck hot Campbell’s Bean with Bacon soup through a paper straw. — Greg Homer, Placerville, CA
He swaggered into the room (in which he was now the “smartest guy”) with a certain Wikipedic insouciance, and without skipping a beat made a beeline towards Dorothy, busting right through her knot of admirers, and she threw her arms around him and gave him a passionate though slightly tickly kiss, moaning softly, “Oooohh, Scarecrow!”— David S Nelson, Falls Church, VA
She slinked through my door wearing a dress that looked like it had been painted on … not with good paint, like Behr or Sherwin-Williams, but with that watered-down stuff that bubbles up right away if you don’t prime the surface before you slap it on, and – just like that cheap paint – the dress needed two more coats to cover her. — Sue Fondrie, Appleton, WI