Bulwer-Lytton Contest Entry

From her high-up window in the attic of the old Suggins home, a run-down, ramshackle, hodge-podge of add-ons, lean-tos, and converted outbuildings that mercifully obscured the original structure, now devoid of paint these many decades, Becky Sue Suggins looked out at the manure pile, the hen house, and, beyond that, the odoriferous pig sty, and wondered if it were true that she’d never own a brick privy, the dire fate often predicted for her by her unsympathetic father, Lafcadio Suggins, a man who knew the value of hard work and avoided it at every opportunity, but esteemed it highly in others.