The Style Invitational Week 887 Plus-fours
A new contest: We give you a
line, you write the rest of the limerick
By The Empress
Saturday, September 25, 2010; C02
-- She said, "Never, you cad"
-- He snatched up a cleaver
-- But then it got tricky
-- And through each passing year
-- They came back in one piece
-- Displaying a broom
People sure like limericks,
it turns out: We received more than 1,000 entries for Week 882's contest, and
many people seemed eager for another challenge. Here's one we've never done
before. This week: Write a limerick whose third or fourth line is one of those
listed above. Remember that, in the smallest nutshell into which we can
oversimplify it, Lines 1, 2 and 5 of the limerick must each contain the meter
"o-hickory-dickory-dock" and must rhyme
with one another; and that Lines 3 and 4 must contain "o-dickory-dock" and rhyme with each other.
Winner gets the Inker, the
official Style Invitational trophy. Second place wins a cheap plastic figurine
of a grinning swami that was a promotion for the movie "The Love
Guru," which went on to win Golden Raspberry Awards for Worst Movie, Worst
Actor (Mike Myers) and Worst Screenplay. Donated by Style editor and
Invitational fan Lynn Medford.
Other runners-up win their
choice of a coveted Style Invitational Loser T-shirt or yearned-for Loser Mug.
Honorable Mentions get one of the lusted-after Style Invitational Loser
Magnets. First Offenders get a smelly, tree-shaped air "freshener"
(Fir Stink for their First Ink). One prize per entrant per week. Send your
entries by e-mail to losers@washpost.com or by fax to 202-334-4312. Deadline is
Monday, Oct. 4. Put "Week 887" in the subject line of your e-mail, or
it risks being ignored as spam. Include your name, postal address and phone
number with your entry. Contests are judged on the basis of humor and
originality. All entries become the property of The Washington Post. Entries
may be edited for taste or content. Results to be published Oct. 23. No
purchase required for entry. Employees of The Washington Post, and their
immediate relatives, are not eligible for prizes. Pseudonymous entries will be
disqualified. The revised title for next week's results is by Jeff Contompasis. The honorable-mention subheads are by Tom
Witte (Week 880), Beverley Sharp and Craig Dykstra (Week 882).
'Q'uite a 'R'ation of 'S': More honorable mentions from Week 880
We had no new contest four
weeks ago, so this week we offer some more detritus from previous contests. For
Week 880, we asked you to take an existing word beginning with Q, R, or S,
change it by one letter, and define the new word:
Skedaddie: A deadbeat father.
(Brad Alexander, Wanneroo, Australia)
Breverend: Everyone's favorite sermon-giver.
(Pam Sweeney, St. Paul,
Minn.)
Qualifictation: A lie on one's résumé.
(Beverley Sharp, Washington)
Quirk-change artist: A
psychiatrist.
(Bob Klahn,
Wilmington, Del.)
Rehoarsal: Tom Waits's warmup.
(Stephen Gold, Glasgow,
Scotland)
Rodeo Dive: A
house in Beverly Hills worth less than a million bucks.
(Chris Doyle,
Ponder, Tex.)
Rotundra: A vast, unfurnished foyer of a McMansion.
(Stephen Dudzik,
Olney)
Sabotagging: Posting incriminating photos on your
"friend's" Facebook page.
(Craig Dykstra, Centreville)
Scrotching: "Searching for pocket change."
(Kevin Dopart,
Washington)
Soberiquet: A fake name used at an AA meeting.
(Tom Witte, Montgomery
Village)
Straycation: A weekend in Vegas that you really hope stays in
Vegas.
(Gary Crockett, Chevy Chase)
Strop throat: What Sweeney
Todd's customers suffered from.
(Craig Dykstra)
Rataptouille: A French dish combining tomatoes, garlic, onions,
zucchini and the expectorant of a disgruntled sous-chef.
(Malcolm Fleschner,
Palo Alto, Calif.)
Lim Pickings: More limericks from Week 882
A druidic magician
named Matt
Makes a nun
disappear just like that.
Then he opens a
trap
Holding rodents,
and zap!
Pulls a habit
right out of a rat. (Chris Doyle, Ponder, Tex.)
Direct from the bar Pa came
slinking;
Ma noticed his breath was
still stinking.
When she said he was drunk,
He declared, "That is
bunk!
"It was I who was doing
the drinking!" (Erik Wennstrom, Bloomington,
Ind.)
I'm shocked that
the public ignores
What goes on in
our furniture stores,
Where chests get
caressed,
Kings and queens
stand undressed,
And there's
regular dropping of drawers. (Chris Doyle)
John Cleese, from his very
first role,
Knew the way to America's
soul:
Though a joke may be crude,
Obnoxious and rude,
In a posh British accent,
it's droll. (David Smith, Santa Cruz, Calif.)
When feeding your baby a
nibble,
The chances are great he will
dribble.
Although he might scowl,
Just wipe with a towel.
And if that won't work, maybe
a bib'll. (Mae Scanlan,
Washington)
His daughter is dead, the
poor lamb;
When his wife says, "I'm
sorry, I am --
Now, dear, pour me a drink
So I don't have to
think,"
Rhett says, "Frankly, I
don't give a dram." (Ann Martin, Bracknell,
England)
The princess,
allergic to hay,
Has been sniffling
and sneezing since May.
Now she's wooed by
a knight
With a potion that
might
Have Isolde on Dristan all day. (Chris Doyle)
An acrobat, cream
of the crop,
Karl Wallenda rose fast to the top --
This aerial king
Had the world on a
string.
Life was good to
the very last drop. (Chris Doyle)
Read more limericks.
Next week: Rekindling the spork,
or Whybrids
Dribbling on: More "dr-"
limericks from Style Invitational Week 882
By The Empress
Saturday, September 25, 2010;
More honorable-mention limericks from Week 882, a
contest seeking limericks featuring words beginning with dr-:
My drosophila photo you buy
Has a pixel count terribly
high
I will mail it compressed,
So to view it, you'd best
Have a tool for un-Zipping my
fly. (Craig Dykstra, Centreville)
Planned a party as
big as they get;
Went in hock for a
band and Joan Jett.
Sent out invites
-- a ton.
The replies? Not a
one!
Now I'm dreading a
fête worse than debt. (Chris Doyle, Ponder, Texas)
When the queen bee insists
that they date,
The drones try to pass,
citing fate:
"While we'd love to have
sex,
We know we'll be wrecks
Since you rip out our organs
to mate." (Jane Auerbach, Los Angeles)
Some married men can't help
but drool
When a hottie
walks by at the pool.
They must tell their mate,
"Deah,
I've got sialorrhea"
And just hope that the wife
plays the fool. (Edmund Conti, Raleigh, N.C.)
For your boy, who
consoled you, a dreidel.
For your mom, who
made soup, a new leidel.
For your husband
who swore
He'd stop seeing
that whore,
What'll even the
score? A greneidel! (Chris Doyle)
There's romance with singing
and crying;
There's fighting and scheming
and dying --
My day's full of drama
Till my wife or my mama
Gets home, flips the channel,
starts buying. (Kannan Thiruvengadam,
Boston)
The twin playmates whom I'm
double-teaming
With their passionate moaning
and screaming
Could have woken the dead,
But they woke me instead --
Not surprisingly, I was just
dreaming. (Craig Dykstra)
Fifty channels, and none of
them free.
So you'd think there'd be
something to see
But alas it's such crap,
I prefer a good nap.
Apropos that it's called DreckTV. (Craig Dykstra)
There once was a debutante's
Dr.
Who'd rest not until he'd defr.
For her honor's safe guard
She did try (but not hard),
It was what she'd been
missing that sho. (Doug Harris, Stockton-on-Tees,
England)