Congratulations to Benny, who took first place in Round One of the Alf Landon Bad Writing Competition. He advances to the finals. We will pick our final two finalists this week. Here are 6 more entries, and I need you to vote for your least favorite one at the bottom. Voting ends Wednesday at 3:30 p.m.

• JOHN-Alf Landon capped off his Sunday communion breakfast with Adolph Hitler’s nephew, Yizzle Hitler, with a resounding kick to his solar plexus and surprise hand favor in the closet with the chairwoman of his dog grooming school.
• WILLIAM– Alf Landon. The words hung in my brain like a slimy newborn, yet to have the mucous wrenched from its trachea. The shitstorm of joy and treachery that marked the previous 3 months had finally come to an end, but the question remained: Just who was this man?
• RYAN– I inventoried the contents in my shabby 1992 Honda Civic, even though the contents never changed: One paperback of Christopher Marlowe’s King Lear. Check. One bladder of Franzia. Check. One vinyl copy of the 1974 L.P. “Nap Bastard” by eastern European jazz-fusion outfit The Perogi Prerogative–the most influential Prague-Rock group of that decade. Czech. I felt ready, but confidence alone does not a Hungry-Hungry Hippos Semi Finalist make. Even Alf Landon had confidence.
• BO– Rosita politely stifled her gag reflex as she choked down her mother-in-law’s dismal flan donging at her insides.
• BRIAN-Alf Landon was blind.
• BILL– We came here for two reasons,” said Tim, the camp’s chubby head counselor, “to eat smores and pray. I’m all out of marshmallow, so get on your knees y’all!” As little Alf Landon knelt down and took the hand of the boy next to him, he smiled, knowing that his mom was right about church camp.