Some of my favorite posts are my snippets of bad, but until I posted my 3rd set of them, they did not get much in the way of responses.
Not getting any kind of response has never stopped me before and it won’t stop me now.
I have picked my favorite snippet and have expanded it.
Why? Because I wanted to, why else?
So, below is my snippet, writing so bad it is good…. (Don’t try and figure that out-it could cause irreversible brain damage.)
THE VICTORIAN NOVEL (Taken from the very first snippet posting)
It was well understood that Mr. Petergrass was a cad. His mother knew it; of course she did, how could she not?
His father knew it, himself being a cad, it was only natural that his only son would take after him and be a cad, too.
His sister knew it, she despised him for it, how could she not, being a sad, shy, and sickly creature always so meek and mild.
A sensible creature, was she, who never spoke a word to anyone unless formally addressed, and then only in a barely audible whisper.
Penelope or Pep, as they called her, was the darling of the family.
Mr.Petergrass had strange ideas, radical ideas, strange radical ideas.
It wasn’t enough that he was already a cad, he now was a liberal cad as well!
He actually believed Women should have the vote!
“What nonsense!” said his Father.
Pep had just stared at her brother wide-eyed in disbelief as he tried to explain his unusual radical ideas.
It was then Father asked the vulnerable Pep to leave the room in order to have a talk with his son.
“A radical sir, you are a radical, never will I permit such a radical in my house!” shouted his father!
“But, Father”, said Mr.Petergrass, “Women are every bit as smart as men, why should they not have the vote, sir?”
“You are mistaken, sir”, said his red-faced father, “and I kindly ask that you leave these premises for good! I will not abide radical talk in this house! Do you hear me, sir?”
“No doubt the whole neighborhood has heard you, sir!”
And with that Mr.Petergrass stormed out of the house.
Now, Pep had heard the whole sordid conversation, due to the fact that she had the habit of listening in at keyholes.
She chided herself; she should be embroidering that cushion for her Aunty Hilberry, but listening in on others conversations always proved so much more useful.
She heard her father leave the drawing-room, go to the cellar to get a bottle of wine, and then return to the parlor.
She quickly jumped up and resumed her embroidery, smiling warmly up at her father, as he entered the room.
He stopped and patted her on the head.
No worrying about this one, he thought, always knows her place, always so meek and mild, so much like her mother.
Where was that woman anyway?, Petergrass Sr. thought to himself.
“Pep”, he started, he loved the way she looked up at him, so startled when anyone addressed her, what a fair delicate creature!
“Y…e..s, Father”, she whispered.
“Do, you know where your mother is gotten off to?”
“Well confound it girl, where is she?” he snapped, losing his patience.
“In the cellar”, came her barely audible reply.
“But, I was just in the cellar and she was not there.”
“Oh yes she is.”, contradicted Penelope for the first time in her life.
“I tell you she is not there!”
“Oh! But she is father. I will go and show you, father. But, you must go first, because I am afraid of the mice.”
“Alright then, Pep honey”, he said his tone softening.
He lit a candle and started down the cellar steps.
He never felt the fatal blow to the back of his head.
The next day Mr.Petergrass came back to make amends with his father, but when he stepped in to the parlor only Pep was there doing her blasted embroidery.
“Hey, Pep, where is Father?”
“Oh, he is in the cellar, let me show you….”
Ever met someone who was not what they seemed? Ever meet a homicidal nut case like Pep?