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 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)