[Perry] The Bad Writing Challenge

So the lovely Bre sent up a challenge last week.

We were tasked to intentionally write the WORST piece of flash fiction we could.

In her own words:

“I mean, pull out every freaking stereotype, troupe, clique, bad word usage, bad descriptions, BRING OUT THE ADVERBS and vomit all over the page.

Let your inner polyester, weave-wearing, spandex-loving self out.”

Can I write badly?

Can I?!

Of COURSE I can write bad fiction.

I’m not 100% sure that Tami can…her attempt started as bad fiction and turned into something cute and adorable (if you poke at her enough, I’m sure she’ll share her endeavors), but CAN I?!

Oh hells yeah.

My masterpiece shall comprise the rest of this post…but what about YOU?

I echo Bre’s challenge and direct it at you.

Worst piece of flash fiction you can muster up, I want to see it. The WORLD wants to see it!

So I’m going to drop mine right here in this post, but for yours? I want to see some popping up their misbegotten heads in the comments.

This is not for serious.

This is not for critical acclaim.

This is for fun! Play! Play!

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“No, Ronaldo. We can’t!” She said passionately as she turned away from him.

“Maria, you know that this is what your body desires! Search within your heart,” he beseeched her passionately. “You know it to be true!”

His long, luxurious locks blew back in the wind that came when he’d opened the door to her hours.

After she’d opened the door to her house to let him in is when the wind came to blow his hair backwards, down his back. He was dressed in a white shirt with buttons except half the buttons were not done up and faded jeans.

“But my husband, Ronaldo,” she cried passionately as she turned back to him. “But my husband will come back at any minute and then if he catches us it will all be over because you know how he gets when he is angry but he will be more angry because you are his twin brother and then angry at me because I am his wife and you know how he gets when he is angry like that because of his Latin temper.”

“I fear not the anger of your husband,” Ronaldo said, his versatile tongue rolling the R’s with the way his accent worked. “Come and let me take you away from him.”

“But we can’t!” she said with passion as her body leaned towards him anyways. “We can’t, we can’t, we mustn’t!” She cried as she lay her hands on the exposed skin of his chest.

She could feel his heart beating under her hands and it drove her wild with wanting and need and passion.

“Maria,” Ronaldo said, rolling the R’s again. “You know that i cannot live without you.” He said in a strong Latin voice. “Come with me Maria and we shall make love under the stars tonight at this very night.” He said as his gaze slid down her body.

“Oh Ronaldo,” she cried with passion. She could feel his eyes looking at her and it was driving her mad with wanting. “We cannot do this thing to my husband,” she said with heavy regret in her voice. “We cannot do this thing because….my husband is in a coma!”

Ronaldo stepped backwards from looking at her bosoms in her low cut dress and put a hand to his chest in shock as the other hand flung out behind him in surprise.

“My brother…in a coma?!” He gasped with passionate surprise. “What are you speaking of, Maria? How could this be?”

“Oh Ronaldo,” she said with sorrow and passion. “You must know how I feel about you.”

“Of course, Maria,” he said. His voice was surprised. “But this is a great surprise to me. How come Frank is in a coma?”

“Because, Ronaldo,” she said, and as she spoke, a wanting that could not be held back glittered in her dark and soulful eyes. “Because, Ronaldo,” she said again. “It is because I cut his brakes! And then his car got into an accident with a tree and then he had to go to the hospital!”

“Maria!” Ronaldo exclaimed with angry surprise. “Why would you do this thing to my brother? My twin brother and only family is what he was to me and you are the one that made him go into a coma!”

“I did it for us, Ronaldo!” She shouted at him as she flung herself at him as he stood in the door. But he did not put his arms around her, even though half her bosoms were hanging out of her low cut dress. Even with that, his eyes no longer went looking and instead, were angry at her instead.

“You scarlet harlot!” He shouted in a voice thick with Latin anger. “He is my only family, my brother! My only brother and you have killed him!”

“But he is not dead!” She cried passionately as she tried to kiss his strong, bronzed neck. “He is only in a coma!”

“But why?!” He shouted as he held her at bay. “Why would you only put him into a coma if you could have killed him so easily?!” He shouted passionately, trying to understand what the woman was saying.

“Because if he is just in a coma, then he is not dead and I will not lose the house because we are married! I know that you were always jealous of your brother, Ronaldo, but now, you don’t have to be jealous anymore because I will divorce him and we can be married instead and then we will live together in this mansion and have all the money.”

“I knew you could not be trusted,” Ronaldo said, with sorrow, but still some passion because he loved his wife.

Yes, his wife.

Because even as he said those words, more words were said with the same Latin accent but from the garage! Which had opened! And another Ronaldo came out!

Maria was very surprised and felt a pain in her chest.

“Oh my god,” she said with surprise. “Who is this?”

“I am Ronaldo,” the new man said. He was wearing a black leather jacket and cowboy boots with faded jeans also. “I am the REAL Ronaldo.”

Maria looked at the man she was pressing her bosoms against. “Then, who is this Ronaldo?”

“I?” The original Ronaldo said. “I am FRANK! Your husband! You tried to murder me or comatose me but luckily, my brother cares more about me because I am his only family and also his twin so he told me what you were planning and told me so that we could put together this trap to prove that you are an evil woman!” He screamed at her.

“I gave you everything and you tried to put me in a coma!” He shouted loudly.

“I am having a heart attack!” Maria said with great pain as she collapsed to the floor.

“Oh no, Maria!” The original Ronaldo (who was really Frank) said as she fell down to the ground and her heart stopped beating.

Frank looked up to his brother, Ronaldo, his twin and had tears coming down his face as he held Maria’s shoulders as she lay on the ground, dead from a heart attack because of her passionate surprise at what had happened.

“Ronaldo, my brother,” Frank said, crying. “It is only now that she is gone that I realize that I really loved her the whole time. What will I do without her? Who can I blame for such a tragic thing that has happened to me? For my wife to betray me with you and then to try and comatose me? Who can I blame for this?”

Ronaldo stepped forward and put his hand on Frank’s back, comforting him.

“I know who you can blame,” Ronaldo said surely.

“Who?” Frank asked with tears in his eyes.

“You can blame Bre,” Ronaldo said as he looked up into the sky. “It was her idea that set your pain into motion, Frank, my only twin brother, and it’s her fault that you have experienced such tragedies in a short time. So what the hell, Bre?” He asked the sky as it began to rain and the rain made his white shirt cling to his pectoral muscles.

“Yes, Bre,” Frank said, as his shirt also began to cling to his chest in a sexy manner. “Bre, what the freaking hell?”

The End.

 

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