"The Second Book of Memorable First Sentences From Books That Don't Exist"

[Dr. Drib]

Thank you, Hitch, for the kind words.




Don

[Dr. Drib]

After traversing the infinitude of space, traveling unerringly along the streams of time from far Betelgeuse, the little spacecraft landed with an audible plop in Sparky’s favorite dog bowl.




Dr. Drib

[Dr. Drib]

I must tell you at the outset that this is an extremely boring book, otherwise I would have written more than the 582 pages on my weekly habit of arising in the morning to put on my clothes, working always from top to bottom as it were, with my arms stretched high in the air as I slip on my T-shirt, followed by the inevitable hopping motions as I surrender my legs to my underwear, and thence the donning of my socks – first the left foot and then the right foot, although I will sometimes vary the activity by putting a sock on my right foot first and then the other sock on my left foot - and culminating (as it were) with my shoes, which always must go on the correct foot unless, of course, I have had too much to drink the night before.




Dr. Drib

[crich70]

Originally Posted by Dr. Drib

After traversing the infinitude of space, traveling unerringly along the streams of time from far Betelgeuse, the little spacecraft landed with an audible plop in Sparky’s favorite dog bowl.




Dr. Drib

Sounds a bit Douglas Adams-ish.

[Prestidigitweeze]

It was Sebald's misfortune to be reborn as a human hand that dreamed of becoming a Japanese pictoglyph, so that all of its hours away from its grueling handjob at the Cuticle Refinery were spent practicing a kind of flesh origami in which it contorted its digits into impossible renderings of the character for mizu (itself suggestive of the flow of motion that might allow Sebald-hand-san to realize its ideal of metalinguistic transformation), so that it could be seen executing handstands and various difficult poses foppishly in front of the beige fingerfountain, imagining the tickle of innumerable gazes over its brushed-ink finger pad whorls while striking signifying attitudes, until it attracted the questionable attentions of IMPOLITE ALL-CAP IMPERSONATORS and fled in humiliation, its slinking retreat leading to reveries of commingling with entire volumes of calligraphy, where it could at last stroke the curls and cusps of Hiragana while envisioning a more tolerant world, in which thoughtful extremities like itself might apply careful fingerings as easily to other letters as to older lutenists, and were allowed to wear their kanji diagrams proudly, just as Sebald-san's Guidonian handmaiden friends donned their various Uts and As in the tinted windows of Amsterdam, where furtive paragraphs paid -- not handsomely but handily nonetheless -- as much for the handmaidens' inner euphony as for their outer adherence to an ideal as impossible as it would be to retain the image before an orgasm (or is that origami chasm?) as eternally as a letter is pronounced and a hand is lent (especially at Lent).

[Prestidigitweeze]

Then came the day when I was thrust groin-first into the muzzle of God's shotgun and commanded to emerge in time to reload His smokin' gatling bandana, only the Devil had other ideas and came at me in her feathered pince-nez whispering that she might enjoy watching me fondle my own thoughts, whereupon I screamed "I am!," Carlyle-style and went all Everlasting Yea on her assonance, and after she dumped me off at a bus stop in Atlantis City, the Heavens Twins tried to pick me up on a lurid street corner, but I told them I had things to go and places to do, and that the Mesopotamian mountains were four of them, which made everyone bugger off except the fogger I used to delouse my favorite anagrams, whereupon my heart stopped beating and started dancing the Fandagobi to rude Jacobean throat waltzes, forcing the less permissive elements of afterlife society to lay down the lawn of stars over which I sashayed like a flute without frisson.

[Prestidigitweeze]

Yesterday, I answered an ad that asked if I wanted "to become a fat burner"; today, I can't stop incinerating people.

[Dr. Drib]

Originally Posted by doubleshuffle

She had a face that could stop a clog, which helped her to an illustrious career in some obscure Dutch sport.

My inspiration for doubleshuffle's sentence:

She had a face that could clog a drainpipe, so I brought along my tools.



Dr. Drib.

[gmw]

She unclogged my drainpipe; the outpouring of sludge cleared the pipe and cleared my mind, and I knew I had to marry this woman.

[Hitch]

Originally Posted by Prestidigitweeze

Yesterday, I answered an ad that asked if I wanted "to become a fat burner"; today, I can't stop incinerating people.

MWAHAHAHAHAHA.

Thanks for that, Prestidigitweeze, I really needed that today.

Hitch

[Freeshadow]

"It's so boring, that it could pass as a modern novel." - tought the PI while leafing trough the victims diary.

[Prestidigitweeze]

Originally Posted by Hitch

MWAHAHAHAHAHA.

Thanks for that, Prestidigitweeze, I really needed that today.

Hitch

Any time, Hitch, and thanks for being so supportive!

Speaking of incineration, I once visited a house rented by several members of the Gypsy Jokers in which a hirsute biker held out his cigar and demanded a light. Another biker produced a blowtorch; beard singeing and guffaws ensued.

I stood on the sidelines and whistled mentally until the pair left. The ignited beard actually made a sizzling sound which I can still hear in my head whenever I'm in the mood to be tortured by my own thoughts.

[gmw]

Originally Posted by Prestidigitweeze

Yesterday, I answered an ad that asked if I wanted "to become a fat burner"; today, I can't stop incinerating people.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, they say ("they" in this case is apparently Charles Caleb Colton), so:

Yesterday, I answered an ad that asked if I wanted "to become a fat burner"; today, I know why smoking is a heath hazard.

Or using inspiration rather than imitation:

There's nothing quite like the smell of fat sizzling on the barbecue, it doesn't matter whether it comes from tasty lamb chop, a plump pork sausage, or, as in this case, a tender human sirloin, the smell of flesh broiling in the open air is something that always makes my mouth water.

[gmw]

And another inspired by thinking about ridiculous ads:

The woman watched me lumber toward her car, her eyes wide in fear - it made me wonder if running her off the side of the road had been the wrong way to go about this, but I might never see her again - and when I tapped on the driver's window her mobile phone jumped out of her fingers and fell to the floor, but I ignored all that, I had to know, so I yelled through the closed window, "Your bumper sticker says, 'Lose weight now, ask me how!' so I'm asking: how?"

[doubleshuffle]

Originally Posted by Dr. Drib

She had a face that could clog a drainpipe, so I brought along my tools.

To keep up the silliness:

She had a face that could drain a piper, but old Peter's clogged arteries gave Vampirella something to chew on.