I’ve often felt like this:
He typed like a ninja with no arms, and the text flowed like a drop of blood down a katana blade sharpened with one of those automatic kitchen things you can buy on late-night television when you’re drunk but not too drunk to read off your 16-digit credit card number and security code.
This paragraph — by Alex Dering of Brooklyn — won a Dishonorable Mention in the Purple Prose division of this year’s Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, dedicated, as always, to “bad opening sentences to imaginary novels.” The 2015 winners list is now up.
I probably could not have equaled this feat, compelled as I am to point out that American Express cards have only 15 digits. (Oh, and a longer security code.)