It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness. --Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford (1830)
That sentence inspired "a whimsical literary competition that challenges entrants to compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels." From the home page you can get the 2006 winners. The grand prize went to this:
Detective Bart Lasiter was in his office studying the light from his one small window falling on his super burrito when the door swung open to reveal a woman whose body said you've had your last burrito for a while, whose face said angels did exist, and whose eyes said she could make you dig your own grave and lick the shovel clean.
