Contest Results

I've chosen four "winners" of the 24-hour contest, the object of which was to write the opening of a work of fiction based on one of five Guess the Plots. One winner from each prompt (not including the Churchworld account prompt, which no one wrote on) is posted below. Note to self: Next time, if there is a next time, give them one plot rather than five; most of them will choose the same one anyway. Only one person wrote on the stilettos and the rookie cop, so those winners were easy to select. Entries not posted below are posted in no particular order near the bottom of Evil Editor's Openings. There are some good ones there. If your work isn't credited and you wish it to be, let me know.


When Josie grabbed the last pair of rhinestone-studded, stiletto-heeled slingbacks in the shop window, she didn't know Veronica would eat her heart out. Literally.


"Slutty or classy?" I posed in black strap 'killer' stilettos.

Josie gimaced. "Try the flats. You don't want to dwarf them."

"'$100 to meet thirty men. With refreshments.' I can't believe I'm doing this."

"C'mon, how bad can it be? Better than being the sad bridesmaid without a date. Trust Simon to do the dirty just before the big day."

"Don't mention the scumbag. Why does Mom have to marry again, anyway? Wasn't twice enough?"

"She's a romantic."


Yay for refreshments. Waiters refilled our glasses and plied us with fancy tidbits.

No.1: Mmmm, Alice, sexy perfume. Reminds me of my Mom.

No.2: Do you like 'blonde' jokes?

No.3: Yep, those bedpans were no joke. I'm talking ulcers the size of - you feeling okay?

No.4: Are you the adventurous type? You know, handcuffs - nothing kinky like dog stuff, unless you ...?

No. 5: Spiders get a bad press. They make great pets. No, really, I'm not kidding.

No.6: I'm a leg man, myself, but you could convert me.

No.7: How about this weekend? Just gotta check with my probation officer. Hey, we've still got 4 minutes left.

No.8: So, what are your views on polygamy?

No.9: When the divorce's through, we could try that All-you-can-eat Steak House ... Veggie? You can eat lamb, though. Turkey? How about kebabs?

No.10: You have a sister? Josie. That's great, I'm really into sisters. You're sure? How about a friend? Boy, girl - I'm not fussy.

Thank God, just one more to go.

"Wine?"

I obliged. "H-ow-w-l-hic."

His chuckle reminded me of meltingly rich dark chocolate - bitter sweet and sinful. Number 30: Nick. A rush of moist heat swooshed to parts I didn't know existed. -- anonymous


When rookie cop Sarah Baxter is sent on her first undercover mission, she must catch the killer quickly... or miss her thirteenth birthday party.

Even with all my professional training, when I first heard that the high school gym teacher was murdered, I laughed. I thought, what? Someone got tired of playing dodgeball? Then I saw the photos. His severed head was stuffed into the big mesh sack with all the soccer balls. Talk about gross! A total barfathon.

"Can you handle this, Sarah?" the lieutenant asked me, his forehead all wrinkled with fatherly concern. I rolled my eyes. I aced every course at the academy, didn't I? All those grown men, totally burned because they couldn't keep up with me! I had the fastest time on that stupid obstacle course, like, ever. My aim with a gun was dead-on. I could handle anything.

"It'll mean pretending to be older. You'll have to pass yourself off as a high school student."

I shrugged. Hey, my big sister passes herself off as a high school student every day--how hard could it be? You dress like a slut, talk on your cellphone, don't do your homework, and act bored. No prob. Plus, hello! Tallest girl in seventh grade here!

"We have reason to believe that the murderer is a cheerleader. You'll need to infiltrate the squad."

Wha-at? Omigod, I had to be a cheerleader? Pompoms, uniform, all that retro girly stuff? I had to be perky? This assignment was going to take every bit of nerve I had--not to mention a total makeover. -- anonymous


Lumberjack Cal Calson's deepest secret--the vestigial conjoined twin on his back--has come to life, and is trying to convert him to conservationism.

"Cal, you're not going to cut down that tree, are you?"

Cal Calson, the best lumberjack in the lower 48, gritted his teeth at the sound of the high-pitched whiny voice coming from behind his back. It was his vestigial conjoined twin, Hal. Up until nine months ago Hal had been content to ride along silently as Cal wreaked devastation on the northern California forests. But then, unexpectedly, Hal had come to life. That part wasn't so bad – a lumberjack's life is a solitary one, and having someone really attached to you can alleviate the loneliness.

The problem was that Hal was a goddamned hippie environmentalist.

"Look, Cal! Up in the tree! That's a marbled murrelet, I'm sure of it. They're listed as threatened under the Endangered Species Act, you know."

Cal gripped his chainsaw as he considered the redwood's girth.

"And the salmon, Cal. Think about the salmon. Sacramento winter-run chinook are practically extinct!"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

Cal whirled around but of course it was no use: Hal was securely fastened to his spine.

Cal silently cursed the conjoined twin myslexia that had left him with a parasitic liberal Democrat riding him constantly about the wonders of wildlife. Hell, he knew all about how wonderful salmon was – he'd deep-fat fried one of those Sacramento chinook just the other night, and it was delicious.

"Listen, Cal. Is that the haunting cry of the Northern spotted owl? You know they're endangered, don't you?"

Oh, he'd listen, all right. He'd heard about all he could take from Hal, though. Cal yanked on the cord and fired up his chainsaw. He set the roaring tool with its 48-inch bar down on a stump and pulled out his iPod. It was time for a little Hal-ectomy. -- Morgan Saylor Jones


Satan does have a charming side, and Alice fell for it. Telling her parents about her new boyfriend will not be easy.

"So," Alice's mother said. "You're the enemy of our Lord and Savior." Alice's father had already left the room. Three teacups sat untouched on the coffee table. Alice sat next to Satan on the couch, too nervous to drink.

Satan nodded. "I hope that's not a problem. Lovely decor, by the way." He drank from his cup. "What is this? Flowery Darjeeling? Man, it takes me back!"

Her mother was pinching and twisting her skirt.

"I'm sorry, this is just too ridiculous. I mean, if you are the Devil, why aren't you recoiling before the cross in shame?" Alice's mom pointed at a large, ornate cross on the wall.

"Me? Afraid of the cross?" Satan laughed warmly. "Who do you think put him up there, ma'am?" He took a sip of tea. "Seriously though, I'm not that bad a guy. Mostly I just roam the earth, go back and forth in it, you know."

Alice's father rushed back into the living room, and doused Satan with water. "I adjure you, ancient serpent, by the judge of the living and the dead, by your Creator--"

Satan stood up, wiping off his leather jacket. "Adjure? Is that the Roman Exorcism?" He glanced at Alice and her mom, then started walking around the couch toward Alice's father, who was still chanting. "Sir, trust me. You really don't want to do that." -- Dan Lewis