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The Eclectic Pen - Potential Opening Lines for Novels

By: Scott W. (Rev)   + 36 more  
Date Submitted: 1/29/2007
Genre: Humor & Entertainment » Humor
Words: 419
Rating:

The following tale explains how I discovered what pickled okra tastes like, and the price I paid for acquiring such knowledge. When radio talk show hosts go bad, they do not die, they simply immigrate to Montana. Shaun couldn't quite remember how people were supposed to be like wine bottles, but he was pretty sure it didn't involve sticking corks in their necks. The decision to flee came to Juan as suddenly as his new found fear of purple hairy spiders. There are many tales to be told, many songs to be sung, many projects to be finished, and no lifetime is fully stocked with the hours and minutes needed to do so. Most townsfolk wouldn't have figured the old Starkweather mansion as an evil portal soaked in the blood of the innocent and the screams of tortured souls, but most townsfolk weren't invited to the Starkweather holiday parties, so you can't really blame them for their ignorance. The price to be paid for true knowledge is madness; and that's before the sales tax. Mortimer lit the fuse, crossed his fingers, and dialed the number on the bottom of the soda can. Death waits for no man, but in the case of Benjamin Manifest MacDougal the Fourth, he grudgingly made an exception. Do birds fly because they must, or simply because they can? The detailed diagrams for Dr. Hellion's Doomsday Device would eventually be found in the bottom of a box of water stained vintage comic books purchased at a church basement rummage sale for $1.75. For those of you who are happy and content with the world the way in which you see it, my advice is simple: Read No Further. Who doesn't like Capers? The plans for this year's New Year's Eve Party had not originally included the accidental murder and subsequent dismemberment and disposal of his upstairs neighbor's corpse, but Brian was at his best a courteous and flexible host, and therefore found a way to incorporate it into the night's itinerary. What dreams bring madness, but for ones devoid of reason or hope? Randy closed the door to his one-bedroom apartment with two new facts stored away for future reference; Human hair is highly flammable, and the Post Office isn't open on Columbus Day. Go with God, or face Hell on Earth. There is a time and a place for everything, and this is it. Jonathan fixed his hair, straightened his tie, checked the safety on his Beretta, and ran the doorbell again. In the end there was nothing but the void and its relentless nothingness, but I should probably start at the beginning.

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Scott W. (Rev)

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