It’s not too late to enter my Worst Short Story contest!

Frankenstein Meets the Space MonsterI’ve gotten some good, I mean bad submissions so far, but I hope to see even more drek before this whole thing is done. Make the judging really painful for me!

You have until 11:59:59.999999 p.m. on September 30th to enter. The rules, prize, and other details are here, but the basics are: I’m looking for the worst short story you can write in 100 words or fewer. This is real Blaze of Glory stuff. Make your family proud.

8 responses to “It’s not too late to enter my Worst Short Story contest!

  • nrhatch

    I hope you get some really awful submissions, Eric. Real penny dreadfuls.

  • change it up editing

    I’ve tweeted and posted to Facebook–and I can’t wait to read the entries!

  • Dave

    I’m still working on the piece of crap I want to submit … thanks for the reminder?

  • Really Awful Short Story (Flash Fiction 100) | Colonialist's Blog

    […] ericjohnbaker has issued a challenge to write the most gosh-awful short story not exceeding 100 words.  I hope I have avoided Mozart’s error when he wrote his ‘Musical Joke’ lampooning talentless composers. Despite himself he produced some good music even with all the deliberate errors, so the joke was on him.  However, I don’t think this ghastly effort has a single virtue: […]

  • colonialist

    I have sent one just for fun, and couldn’t resist posting the magnificent tale of the Old West here:

  • Bryan Edmondson

    I am not sure I can capture the true essence of what I am feeling right now—at least not in mere words. I suggest it is not possible, perhaps due to the limits of our magnificent English language, but more so the fact that I have spent the last two hours drinking three dozen cans of hot beer, which I found in the gutted remains of an abandoned grocery cart, which was orphaned behind a dilapidated, out-of-business K-Mart.
    I have waited my whole life for something like this so-called “Worst possible Short Story ever” contest.
    You see, I have always wanted to hang myself in the closet, I have wanted this above all things, ever since I was eight years old; However, I never really had a good reason justify doing so.
    Eric Baker, I tell you today though, now I see your challenge to me as the possible solution to everything that held me back for so many years.
    With the benefit of a good buzz, I have fully invested myself in a written work that is well in excess of 100 words. It is not technically a short story. It is verbose, meandering, yet nonetheless a justly horrible piece of writing. It has no clear plot, no discernible point, and there is no valued moral to glean from it. In fact, I do not recall taking the effort to even spell check it.
    I warn all of you listening today, this not an uplifting ecstasy of words, which flowed effervescing from a golden fountain pen.
    No, This black, flower grows from the womb of my own personal pain. In addition, I wrote the larger part of it sobering up. A time when all I could really do was, shrivel down into the melancholy and failure that comes with the bitterest drunkard’s remorse.
    Nevertheless, I want the world to know that what I say here today, I dedicate to my beloved great grandfather Ivan, a German immigrant, who stepped off the deck of an immense boat in New York over a hundred and thirty so years ago. He came to this country with dreams of a bright future–for himself and the generations that would spring from his loins. This ghastly short story would have literally killed Grandpa Ivan. In addition, I am sure he would literally done his best to kill me, in order to stop it from unfolding here. However, that would be a lot to ask, and even more to hope for, as he is, of course, quite dead and buried..
    But a greater harm than killing my grathfather; I truly believe this knotted rope of incoherent words will only serve to publically humiliate me in front of the entire academic literary world.
    I also feel confident, that after my subsequent and quite violent suicide; this putrid story will serve to shame my surviving loved ones for generations to come, with a blotch more gruesome than that one enormous purple birthmark, which roofed the entire scalp of former Soviet Leader. Mikhail Gorbachev
    All of you fine people here: hear me now. I want you to know, that your children will spit upon the poor relatives I have so recklessly tainted to add to their misery. In addition, you will surely will all applaud, and laugh, and your children, will run amok with large sticks and will eat sweet, sweet. Jolly Ranchers candy from a broken piñata, hanging on a dead, tree. In addition, it shall be a glorious Piñata made in my likeness, to mock me posthumously.
    I want you to know that I do not possess the degree of character it takes to forgive even one of you bastards for any injustices in advance of this certain likelihood.

    However, unlike you, I have the joy, and boastful pride, and the knowledge that at least I will have one glorious moment dangling at the End of a long rope. It is here that I will exact my revenge in my unsightly asphyxiation and frantic kicking. In addition, I shall curse the very name, “Eric John Baker” in my mind, for baiting me into this horrible short story contest.
    I would expect no less from any like-minded misanthrope from New Jersey, who pretends, and affects the manner and appearance of a true writer.
    Thank you. I am have nothing more to say. I have said it all. And I hope you can agree that I did it disgracefully.

  • Bryan Edmondson

    Reblogged this on Creative Interests and commented:
    The best damn written story ever. And also the Worst.

  • A-Moose Me! | Spirit Lights The Way

    […] To double your FUN . . . enter your answer in Eric’s Worst Short Story Contest. […]

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