So many folks have asked me how bad a book must be to only read one sentence or paragraph before closing it (generated by my 2005 stats). Well, I went back and found as many as I could recall (and a bunch of new ones for 2006). These authors did not read Noah Lukeman's THE FIRST FIVE PAGES.
I figure the best thing I can do is let you judge for yourself.
I'd comment on why these are so horrid, but I could never do the kind of justice that Miss Snark has done for the literary community; she's hit the nail on the head enough times to have finished off a mountain retreat. So here, you'll just have to read. And suffer.
You've been warned.
- Everyone loved Colleen, including me. You would have loved her too. What was not to love? She was completely loveable. The first time I saw her, I new [sic] I would fall in love. [closed]
- "Get your hands up!!!!!!!!" cried Milky Frothbean. [closed]
- I can't help it. I've always had a thing for smelly, sweaty spandex. What could be tastier this time of the morning? [closed]
- You will not believe what I am about to tell you. And because I am telling you, you will know it is true, but you will still not believe it, even though you trust me. You may think I am not rtustworhty [sic] but trust me, you won't believe me. [closed, then burned]
- I see men and I semen. [closed]
- Thing's [sic] arnt [sic] allways [sic] on time in thisworld [sic]. [closed]
- Michael Hierhoff III was born on October 17, 1972, the son of Samuel Hierhoff and Maria Hierhoff, of the Stamford Hierhoffs. Michael's grandfather, Elijah Hierhoff, came to America from Austria, where Miriam and Claus Hierhoff raised their many children. Ruth Hierhoff was . . . [closed]
- It turns out you can eat shit and not die. I've been there, baby. [closed]
- In the year 9892 . . . [closed]
- The rain, wet, cold, misty and murky, fell on our saturated, pruned skin, had us running the cold, hard pavement with such animated and excited fury, that we fell in laughter when we returned to the warm, dry fire. [closed]
- Everyday [sic] was like Monday for Trudy Goldman, except Tuesday, which always felt like Tuesday to her. I don't know, you'd have to ask her why. But Monday, different story. She preferred Fridays over any day of the week, which was strange since it felt like Monday. To her, I mean. [closed]
- I like nothing better than hairy arms and big tits. [closed]
- I'd never not do nothing if Amy was taking drugs. [closed]
- Michael Swank would of [sic] saved Marshall Swank if he could of [sic].
- "Is that blood?" I thought. I ran to the phone to call my friend, Jack Walney, at the local FBI office. Turns out he was out, working another case. What are the odds of that? So I called my contact at the Houston Police Department, and he was out on a case, too. Had I stumbled onto something? Was this a conspiracy unfolding?! [closed]
- I could feel the pizza rising, the bile on its way up, over and out, all the pepperoni and mushrooms on a frenzied journey to daylight. Why did I drink all that beer? Why did I feel the need to impress Jesse like that? She told me pizza wasn't a good thing to eat before doing beer bongs and now I was going to prove her right, right down to the imminent pepperoni and mushroom stains on her beautiful white wedding dress. [closed]
- Igby much liked the smell of burning flesh. [closed]
- They called her Labia. [closed]
- I havent [sic] seen porn this good in year's [sic]. [closed]
- Everyone, and I mean everyone, came out for Nam Phing's party. Everyone was there. Even the Grant Carab was there. And since I was there, I can tell you this amazing story. [closed]