IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT: 2010 - 2011

Below are some "winners" of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest of 2010 - 2011. Please see the DARK AND STORMY NIGHT post of July 8, 2014 for an explanation of this contest.

2010
Detective
She walked into my office wearing a body that would make a man write bad checks, but in this paperless age you would first have to obtain her ABA Routing Transit and Account numbers, and then disable your own Overdraft Protection in order to so. 
Steve Lynch, San Marcos, CA

Romance
She purred sensually, oozing allure that was resisted only by his realization as an entomologist that the protein dust on the couch from the filing of her crimson nails was now being devoured by dust mites in a clicking, ferocious, ecstatic frenzy.
Jonathan Blay, Bedford, NS, Canada

Cynthia had washed her hands of Philip McIntyre - not like you wash your hands in a public restroom when everyone is watching to see if you washed your hands, but like washing your hands after you have been working in the garden and there is dirt under your fingernails - dirt like Philip McIntyre.
Linda Boatright

2011
Romance
She gazed smolderingly at the mysterious rider, his body cloaked in enough shining black leather to outfit an Italian furniture store, wrapped so tightly each muscle stood out like a flamboyant hairdresser at an Alabama monster truck rally; and he met her gaze with an intensity that couldn't have been matched by a junkyard dog in the meat aisle of a supermarket.
Chris Kemp, Annapolis, MD

Purple Prose
The Los Angeles morning was heavy with smog, the word being a portmanteau of smoke and fog, though in LA the pollutants are typically vehicular emissions as opposed to actual smoke and fog, unlike 19th century London where the smoke from countless small coal fires often combined with the fog off the Thames to produce true smog, though back then they were not clever enough to call it that.
Jack Barry, Shelby, NC

The wind whispering through the pine trees and the sun reflecting off Lake Tahoe like a scattering of diamonds was an idyllic setting, while to the south the same sun struggled to penetrate a sky choked with farm dust and car exhaust over Bakersfield, a town spread over the lower San Joaquin Valley like a brown stain on a wino's trousers, which is where, unfortunately, this story takes place.
Dennis Doberneck,

Vile Puns 
Convinced that the lost treasure of Eggsbury was concealed within the statue of the beloved Sister Mary Francis in the village square, Professsor Smithee would steal away in the darkest hour of each night and try to chip away at her impervious granite vestment - a vain and fruitless nightly exercise, he well knew, but it was a hard habit to break.
Rodey Reed, Ooltewah, TN

Western
Sunburned and lost, Jake tightened the noose around Randy's snow-white neck and growled, "Any last words, varmint?" to which Randy replied, "Don't be afraid to go out on a limb, Jake - that's where all the fruit is!" which marked the first and last time Jake and the boys hired a life coach to lead one of their cattle drives.
Lisa Kluber, San Francisco, CA

Dishonorable Mention 
The beast lumbered toward the maiden, its fetid breath announcing its presence to her (since she couldn't see him due to the blindfold her captors had tied around her head), its jaws gaping open like a sub sandwich with too much meat, so that no matter how hard you try, you can't possibly keep the lettuce or tomatoes from squeezing out onto the table, or worse, your lap.
Donna P. Titus, Freeland, PA