Today, We Cure Cancer

You know how they say laughing cures cancer? It doesn’t stand a chance against these examples of writing so bad, you’ll be howling with laughter. Here’s the source. Find more there.

I let the edges of my eyes siphon up the pleasure of her tall, slender figure in a blue evening gown that made a low-bridge criss-cross right above where the meat on a chicken is the whitest.

The whites of his eyes came up in their sockets like moons over an oasis lined with palm trees.

The next day dawned bright and clear on my empty stomach.

Below his hat were enough eyebrows to stuff a pillow. <–One of my favorites!

He ran his eyes over my silence.

One of her breasts bobbed into view like a cantaloupe rolling off a display in a fruit store. <–ROFL!

Pritchard sat up like a full-grown geranium.

She laid a hand on my arm and I knew I really had her in the palm of my hand because her face was contorted.

He put his vocalizing on arrested motion.

He nodded once, mostly with his eyes.

She was visibly excited, yet not a vestige of her features betrayed her.

Her voice had a unique deep resonance, like a cannon fired in a cathedral.

When would this phantasmagoria that was all too real reality end? he asked himself.

The realization of what all this meant exploded inside my head and shot me from the mouth of a cannon.

It was full summer in Boston and the heat sat on the city like a possessive parent.

A pitiful sigh swayed above them, and Dr. Farmingham looked upward. With frightened, unveiled eyes Eva begged him silently. The immense inner beauty of her entreaty made him delirious with wisdom.

A shy man, he had learned to do without women. Until Poppy Ames unleashed his libido and put it right up front where he could really see it.

“Who taught you to walk in that fashion? Your steps are feline and catlike.”

 “You have been a misogynist long enough. It’s not good to remain in a state of protracted animation.”

“Except for that rich old bitch who is like a terrible hurricane is, and for this innocent young thing who is the period at the end of the other one’s ideas, the flood behind her thunder, the silent backing up, I would have had that money, finished the research, and be living abroad with you.”

“I wish you would not speak so loud,” she cautioned. “There is no guarantee that one of those Yard men may not be a lip reader.” <–the neighbors are wondering why so much laughter is coming from my apartment.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a heater in your girdle, madam!”

He looks like a basilisk [Jean thought]. She wasn’t quite sure about it— what a basilisk was, much less what one looked like—but its sound had the feeling of his face.

There’s something about being tied up that paralyzes your sense of freedom.

Eager editors played Ellen’s trial to a fare-thee-well, while an equally avid public welcomed the concupiscent and caitiff affair as an antidote for estival doldrums.

It was a whirlwind courtship that ended in marriage at St. Malachy’s three years later.

Almost the four corners of the U.S.A. are represented: Massachusetts, Wisconsin, Kansas, New Jersey.

[Cult leader] Simeon Taylor was killed—beheaded and left to die on a roadside in a Southern town.

I looked at her breasts outlined against the soft fabric of her dress, nipples like split infinitives.

*wipes tears from my eyes* Damn, that was good! Be sure to visit the source to find more of these gems.

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About Fenraven

Fenraven happily lives in south Florida, where it is really hot most of the year. Find him on Twitter, Google +, and Facebook by searching on 'fenraven'.
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2 Responses to Today, We Cure Cancer

  1. W. Lotus says:

    I am traumatized.

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