The Bulwer-Lytton thread

[srussell]

In the spirit of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest (http://www.bulwer-lytton.com), I would like to start the Bulwer-Lytton thread; a thread in which, like the aforementioned contest, the solitary rule is that your concoction may be only one sentence (though compound sentences are permissible), and need not (though it is entirely permissible) start with that intrepid phrase, written by the great Edward Bulwer-Lytton, himself, "It was a dark and stormy night."

[srussell]

Detective Freddy Fall was having a bad day; not a typical bad day, like a 'got your hand caught in the cookie jar' type of bad day, nor was it a fell of your bicycle type of bad day: he was having a you fart before you get in your car because you don't want to stink it up, but when you do, you hear someone behind you say, "Thanks a lot, jerk" and you turn around to discover that you released your flatulence in the face of a super-model, who happened to be sitting an a red, convertible Ferrari, which was parked in the Wal-Mart parking lot next to your dilapidated Yugo kind of bad day.

[Cymrugirl]

It was sunny, not unpleasant, more hellish, like a blow-torch with too much gas to burn and Bob's white-wall tires sat melting on the griddle-hot asphalt during traffic hour while Gina, PSYK's newest dingbat D.J., rattled on the mother-of-pearl-inlay dash about her latest bad date, Darryl Peabody, Bob's sophmore wrestling team pal, which he was thinking, maybe, might have murdered his brother last week.