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

[Dr. Drib]

Tired of churning out the same old novel every 30 days and wondering how happy you might have been if only you had taken Uncle Bart's suggestion to become a manufacturer of nose-hair tweezers?


Then this may be the perfect thread for you to unwind after the rigors of sitting on your rump all day in front of a computer and not engaging in honest work!

NEEDED:
A Few Good Writers to Contribute to the

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

Dr. Drib

[doubleshuffle]

Honest work, honest work, Neville Nosebleed glumly grumbled, nobody can deny I'm doing honest work here, but what good is it if nobody will buy my artisanal nose-hair tweezers anyway?

[gmw]

Originally Posted by Dr. Drib

Q: Why do authors use cliches?

A: Because they're lazy writers.[...]

There was milk up the walls, there was milk in his sneakers, there was milk all over the floor, and the cat was was licking it from her too wet paws; Joe just couldn't stop himself from crying, though he knew he shouldn't.

[Dr. Drib]

I can still remember my first day on the job as a price-matcher for Amazon and feeling that sense of pride which comes from having successfully completed an extensive round of training with top honors, in addition to feeling the responsibility I knew Bezos had placed upon my shoulders as a new member of the Amazon family; but my pride knew no bounds when, on my first day at the job, I managed to locate 3 dozen underwear from a wholesale competitor at a very cheap price and then promptly price-matched (and yes, I actually have that kind of authority); but my biggest coup was undoubtedly the discovery of 4 dozen used underwear - all from China - with a slight discoloration, but at a much cheaper price!



Dr Drib

[Dr. Drib]

He took great pride in being a touch typist even though blind since birth, which may account for his murderous spree and descent into insanity when he discovered that his co-workers had rearranged the keys on his keyboard, and that for the past 20 years he had written nothing but gibberish.




Dr. Drib

[doubleshuffle]

The idea had seemed so brilliant: get others to write his book for him, piece of cake, just start a thread on a writers' forum and let those idiots write away - why, these morons would even think they were doing it for fun, while they were really writing the book that was going to make him famous and obscenely rich; but somehow things weren't working out as planned and he had to write two posts himself for each one he could squeeze out of those lazy bastards - blast it, everything he touched turned into work!

[VydorScope]

Originally Posted by doubleshuffle

The idea had seemed so brilliant: get others to write his book for him, piece of cake, just start a thread on a writers' forum and let those idiots write away - why, these morons would even think they were doing it for fun, while they were really writing the book that was going to make him famous and obscenely rich; but somehow things weren't working out as planned and he had to write two posts himself for each one he could squeeze out of those lazy bastards - blast it, everything he touched turned into work!

THIS.

[ApK]

"I'm concerned about the security of my on-line financial information," lamented Dr. Petersen to his passenger, as he absent-mindedly handed his credit card to the delinquent working the drive-though window.

[doubleshuffle]

They had long toyed with naming their baby after the place of conception, had buried the idea after learning they were having twins, but revived it after someone on an online baby naming forum told how she had named her twins so that their names combined were the place where they were conceived; they should better have reconsidered, however, for while Chelsea seemed quite happy with her lot, Tractor would never forgive them.

[Dr. Drib]

It was the kind of day like any other day, perhaps not the worst or best of days if one had to guess at these things, but a kind of indeterminate day that starts off with a bang and ends with a Buick hanging precariously over the edge of a mountain cliff, with one lone survivor desperately attempting to scramble across the back seat and away from the three murdered occupants before the car plummeted 300 feet into the ravine below.



Dr. Drib

[Graham]

The tentacle groped left, then right, before reaching slowly across the kitchen floor to wrap around Milicent's ankle, the ankle of her wooden leg, otherwise she would have screamed.


Graham

[Dr. Drib]

The four tentacles groped left, then right, before settling upon the star-shaped glass ashtray where four cigarette butts lay, while a fifth tentacle struck a match to a matchbox held by a sixth tentacle and then applied the lit match to the four cigarette butts now held by the previously mentioned four tentacles, all the while that a seventh tentacle slowly strangled Murdoch, who managed to say in a croaking voice, “I thought you said you didn’t smoke!”



(With thanks to Graham!)

Dr. Drib

[Graham]

Mr Frimpton of the local post office, who had always seemed so unappetising, proved to be both delicious and nutritious.


Graham

[Dr. Drib]

They both fought hard - the obese egg on top of the wall and the slow-moving turtle – but there was no denying that one of them would soon lose his balance.




Dr. Drib

[Graham]

Thirty seconds before the universe ended, Captain Awesome fixed the Prohibitor Bomb, and tearfully, joyfully, set the countdown that would save them all to T minus one minute and counting.


Graham