Chamblee54

Part Two of the 2020 chamblee54 report on The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest is here. Part one is there. Pictures for this affair are from The Library of Congress.
Sitting on the saloon stool, Cody quickly downed some liquid courage before reading what he thought would be grim news about his brother at the Battle of Shiloh, but the telegram turned out to be from that mysterious company who kept offering to extend his horse  warranty.
Douglas Purdy, Roseville, CA
I stared out at the crepuscular finish to the day, considering all of the factors, all of the options, all of the consequences, my brain twitching in much the same manner as my colon had following my last feast of convenience store sushi. Timbo Gillespie, Orange, CA
The oyster slid down his throat, leaving it raw and scratchy, and for my sake, thought Pete, why people considered them delicious was mysterious, though as a case in point he noticed his companions had pried theirs open and were eating only what was inside.
Joel Phillips, West Trenton, NJ
“Admitting the need for change is the first step toward recovery—I’m really proud of you,” said the first-year psych student, moonlighting as a supercilious clerk at the mini-mart, and Jane responded, “I’m really just trying to break a twenty and get some ones.” John Tracy, Palm Desert, CA
Having sent his wife Rosemary to their cabin (for it was an unlit and turbulent night at sea), Basil maintained his position at the helm while the driving rain peppered his graying ginger hair, and the old salt thought sagely that it was a good thing he was a well-seasoned sailor.
Donna Parsons, Tulsa, OK
That night she looked a million dollars, which, when considering the sum of her lifetime outlay on her cosmetic surgery ($456,783), her wardrobe ($893,324), her hair and make-up ($379,330) and her jewelry ($432,339), was a poor return, indeed a hefty deficit. Joseph Williams, Devizes, Wiltshire, UK
It wasn’t the way that she moved that first caught Edward’s attention but rather that she didn’t move at all, and her cold porcelain-like skin set his heart aflame because after all, she was the most beautiful corpse he had ever laid eyes on. Ryan Hanaway, Dearborn, MI
While she had no regrets about throwing the lever to douse her husband’s mistress in molten gold, Blanche did feel a pang of conscience for the innocent bystanders whose proximity had caused them to suffer gilt by association. Adam Chmelka, Olathe, KS
Half of Rome was ablaze, but the emperor Nero reclined in his palace, plinking out a disconsolate tune on his lyre, when the door flew open, and in charged his favorite mistress (barking mad but delightfully zaftig) with a knife in each hand, and evidently set on regime change, forcing Nero to leap to his feet and snarl “Come on, baby, fight my lyre!” Daniel Smith, Centennial, CO
“Brawl, grapple, battle, spar, roughhouse, clash, combat, altercation, dust up”, the drunken cowpoke grunted at the lawman, a wobbly hand dangling above his pistol like a spider waiting to descend upon on a helpless fly but Sheriff Thesaurus only stared him down coldly and responded through gritted teeth: “Mister, them’s fightin’ words.” Donald J. Hicks, Manchester, NJ
“Wagon’s Ho!”, shouted Sweaty Mike the trail boss, waving his hat dramatically over his head, and though his grammatical error remained effective at directing the wagon train to begin the day’s travel, he failed to recognize that he had just given Lumpy Maude, the caravan’s only “working girl,” a new nickname in the process. Eric Williamson, Nine Mile Falls, WA