Opening credits

If you're not already familiar with the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, I encourage you to check it out.

I can't decide which is my favorite, but I do very much enjoy the first part of this one:

As I watched the sun rise through the wisps of smog like an angry Scandinavian sumo wrestler clad in a gold lamé muumuu, riding an arthritically slow escalator through the smoke of his own cheap panatela to the linens and beddings floor at J C Penneys, I realized that upon the orb's overtopping the horizon, simple geophysics would deal that metaphor a quick and far less painful death than it deserved.

I particularly love that he's "angry."