Wednesday, July 6, 2011

The Worst Detective Novel Never Written

Following is my first sentence of "The Worst Detective Novel Never Written" as inspired by a contest sponsored by HBO’s “Bored to Death” which is soon to begin its third season.
"Cromwell B. Horny, the catastrophically homely, internationally renowned, narcoleptic private dick cum Cassanova and thereby unwitting father to an orchard of bastards (due to his immediate, impressive and constant engorgement only upon reaching the sweet fields of slumber) hated only one thing more than the hirsute, leprous, midget nuns at the orphanage of the Convent of Perpetual Reminders of Our Forefather’s Sins who gave him a name which unfailingly destroyed his good-natured, daily-resurrected, hope in a kinder world every morning of his unimpressive public school career the moment roll call began, and that was having (once again!) no memory at all of what preceded opening his eyes, feeling his face on the whiskey-reeking, puke-smothered, fuchsia linoleum and tonguing the flaking drool crusting his lips as he realized that standing above him, as usual, was his formerly orgiastic, recently Born Again birth mother, reunited with him in a mission of reconciliation and redemption which came in the form of her blessing his first waking moments the unchanging pre-amble, “Do you want to clean your schwanstucker or should I? ‘Cause it looks like you’ve been used as a turkey baster by the entire roster of The Hollywood Hotties,” the uniformly stunning and equally notorious, Lesbian Kickball Team for Hopeful Mothers."
What’s your favorite opening sentence to a novel?

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