Just Ask Alice. I Think She Knows

She sipped her latte gracefully, unaware of the milk foam droplets building on her mustache, which was not the peachy-fine baby fuzz that Nordic girls might have, but a really dense, dark, hirsute lip-lining row of fur common to southern Mediterranean ladies nearing menopause, and winked at the obviously charmed Spaniard at the next table.

--Jeanne Ville, Novato, CA, Grand Panjandrum's Special Award Winner

That's right: The 2004 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest results are in, and, as you can probably tell from the above, bad writing has never been so good.

My favorite, a Dishonorable Mention, comes from the Children's Literature category:

As he entered the room within which so many a wild night of their sweltering love affair had been spent, the White Rabbit regarded her with benevolent eyes, her posture such that he suspected something was wrong, but before he could speak Alice unburied her face from her trembling hands and between her intense sobs he made out the words, "I'm late...I'm late."

The winner in that category is pretty good, too.