About five years ago, I read about this contest for "the worst possible opening sentence for an imaginary novel." The idea really appealed to me, so for a while, my cousin and I had our own little contest. Any of you want to play? Here's my entry. It's all about the space aliens, I tell you.
Sam Speck, by Shelly Cactus-Lover
"Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Kevin came to the slow realization that life was not a series of unrelated coincidences, but that his entire history had been part of a grand master plan orchestrated, event upon event, by a none-too-benevolent race of highly intelligent space aliens, hell-bent on acquiring complete control of all worlds known and unknown; and as he reflected on his unwilling role in their plan for universal domination, Kevin saw three bright lights careening wildly in the dark Minnesota sky and thought to himself, 'Good God, what now?'"