FROM THE moment we invited you to do your worst and send us your baddest line, the entries came pouring in. And they were...well bad. After a week of serious pondering, our panel of judges, comprising of Gleaner Editor-in-Chief Garfield Grandison; Senior Associate Editor Sport, Tym Glaser; and Lifestyle Editor Grace Cameron; finally weeded out the best of the worst -- or is that the worst of the best?
Comments Glaser: "It's heartening to
see so much poor writing in this island.
My selection criteria 'style' over shock value and meandering."
The winner is...
(drum roll, please)
NANCY BIRK WITH THIS ENTRY:
Shane, oozing masculinity from every pore of his body, squeezed his smelly feet into one-size-too-small, shark-skin cowboy boots, moved his hips to make sure he'd get the swagger right, pushed his woollen winter socks into his jeans front (the girls kept glancing that way...) and doused himself in the 99 cents after-shave: Shane was ready to hit the bars.
- Nancy Birk, Kingston
Runners-up
His deranged mind led him to the rear of the National Chest Hospital where he saw a pile of plastic bags containing thick liquid extracts from the patients chest cavity, he took up one and suddenly started remembering his childhood days when he used to eat "suck-suck" bag juice, as he bit the pointy edge of the bag, and felt the sun-warmed liquid filling his buccal cavity and sliding down his oesophagus.
- Steve Brown
Having made a fortune from the higgler's trade which she euphemistically referred to as "selling", she was made aware of the impending auction of the mansion belonging to the failed banker in an exclusive upscale neighbourhood, and much to the neighbours' dismay, she bought it for cash and proceeded to restart her business, by hanging a sign on her gate, which announced to all and sundry, that "Coal sell into this yard," thereby registering her disdain for the neighbours and the passive voice.
- Godfrey Dennis, Mandeville
It's been almost two years since I sat in the warm seclusion of the Garden Restaurant's cosy alcove, idly caressing a half-filled cocktail glass, thinking of her and why I even bothered to appear after promising myself not to give in ever again, but there I was waiting, surrendering to her mythical powers of persuasion that were so potent, she could sell Evian water to a drowning man, and to be honest, I was drowning and stupid enough to still crave for imported water, still hankering for that champagne taste though my pockets were filled with only beer money.
- Sub Zero (coolflex@yahoo.com)
It was just approaching the dead of the night when Willie Coleman heard two shots ring out; it was actually three shots, but Coleman never heard the third one, for the first two had hit him.
- Nelson Barton, Mandeville
The office desk of the shy, nondescript young man faced the one used by the gorgeous, voluptuous, seductive woman and when she smiled at him, he was devastated, for his heart raced like a Hummingbird hovering over a flower, his hands trembled like the wind in the tall palms, and his eyes grew moist like morning dew on a field of grass, so he pined, grew ill, and almost died.
- Tatlyn Carter, Kingston 8
The shadowed alley reeked of unwashed bodies relieving themselves but I stepped forward bravely only to be hit by an odorous blast of stale rum and the sight of what I had been looking for-the sign Millgate and sons hung drunkenly from its worm-eaten beam.
- Karis P. Chin-Quee, Kingston 6
