Here’s how it works: the fun of this game is in writing things in a style diametrically opposed to how they are normally written. After you write one, you get to issue the next challenge.
The first challenge: Write a brief press release from the Bush Administration in the style of "Letters to Penthouse."
If this takes off, I’ll join in on someone else’s challenge.
My fellow Americans,
I always thought these wars were made up, until this really happened to me. I was having a drink with someone, let’s call him Paul W., when the subject turned to war. He said we should bomb Iraq. Of course I jumped at the chance! I whipped out my ICBM missile, which was long and hard. Paul W. screamed with delight. We talked about how we would pound Iraq. Pound, pound, pound!
Then we smoked a cigarette.
(Name and address withheld by request)
Next challenge: A Penthouse Forum letter written in the style of a Poe poem.
Try this:
The Lesbian
Once upon a barstool dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary
Drinking beer and staring morosely at the sawdust-covered floor
Suddenly, I heard some noises; female voices, not the boyses
Coming as if from the barroom door
“Just some ladies,” I muttered, “Coming in the barroom door.
Only this, and nothing more.”
Closely by, the ladies wandered, and I myself had thoughts I pondered–
“I’ve had a few but surely I’m not that much of a bore.”
The ladies now were drinking, and I admit I got to thinking
I can walk across the barroom floor
State a greeting to the ladies across the barroom floor.
Just “good evening,” nothing more.
With my beer I went to greet them, not as if I meant to meet them
When one stood up and said to her friend, “No way, Lenore!
I’ve had it with your endless preening while I’m the one who’s waiting, steaming,
I love you but never come again through my door!”
It was loud and vicious, was her angry roar–
What she shouted at Lenore.
Other patrons now were staring, looking closely, almost daring
Some kind of reaction from the suddenly-alone Lenore
She just sat, her face a-frown, tears welling up and trickling down,
Splashing down onto the barroom floor
In a thin voice she said, “So we’re no more.
All those years and we’re no more”
Looking up, she saw me waiting, perhaps she was contemplating
But no, it was too much to ask of the fair Lenore
But her friend had gone outside, and she said, “I need a ride,
Could you drive me to my front door?”
I said sure and I started to walk towards the barroom door
Hey it’s just a ride; it’s nothing more.
In the car she asked me “Why–would you like some tea up high
In my flat for taking me to my apartment door?”
I said some tea would be fine, and that the pleasure was all mine
For taking her to her door
Sure, I wondered, but she just wanted to get to her door
Safely, of course, and nothing more.
So I thought, but once in there, she shed her clothes and let down hair
It seemed no tea was coming from the fair Lenore
“Love me now and do it right; now I’m far from that woman’s sight
And I’ve never wanted a man at all before.”
So I loved her, upon her kitchen floor–
She loved me back; I’ll say no more.
I say it now with sure conviction, I thought these letters were pure fiction
Until my night spent in the sweetness of Lenore
I left just as dawn was lighting, so my letter now I’m writing
To tell you of the love we made upon her kitchen floor
Two lesbians may have walked through the barroom door
But of girls at all, she now says, “Nevermore!”
(Apologies to any whom this may offend, but it seems to be a popular situation in the Letters to Penthouse, so I gave it a try.)
Okay what’s next? How about a Bush-Kerry debate in the style of Dr. Seuss?
George the second was king of the pond.
He was king of the army and House and was fond
of looking at things in a bright kind of way.
His buddies in gov’ment often heard him say:
“I’ll be a moral leader. Good, down-home and kind.
Yes, I’ve gotten my troops in a bind;
but now we’ve gotta see things through.
And the shot dilemma? Hey, I ain’t scared of the flu.
Save the medicine for someone who needs it.
(Psst - Rove - does it look like I’m lit?)
We’ll leave no child left behind; they’ll all get schoolin’
just like I did. I ain’t foolin’.
So I’ll finish now: I’ll be the one who does good.
And that’s my debate. Need some wood?”
Now John was the challenger, the new kid in town.
He didn’t much like joking around.
His was a more smart-guy talk,
and he went after George with the speed of a hawk:
“This poor chap has got no plan
for the future of this American land.
Now me, I have them, a million or more.
I can’t tell you them now, but they’ll help the poor.
Look at this guy: he’s made a mess of things
with his wars and his oil and his Texas Air wings.
I’ll make this country better than the sum of its parts.
Oh - did you know? I have three Purple Hearts!”
Surely someone else can do better. Please don’t let me stop you from concocting a better Seuss debate.
But for someone else…how about an excerpt from Battle Royale III: Directed by George Lucas.