The Bulwer-Lytton winners were announced last week. It's a contest to write the worst first line of a novel. I like the runner-up better than the winner. Here it is:
The wind dry-shaved the cracked earth like a dull razorthe double edge kind from the plastic bag that you shouldn’t use more than twice, but you do; but Trevor Earp had to face it as he started the second morning of his hopeless search for Drover, the Irish Wolfhound he had found as a pup near death from a fight with a prairie dog and nursed back to health, stolen by a traveling circus so that the monkey would have something to ride.
Many more here.
(Hat tip: John Sides)