Or how NOT to write a story. Unfortunately, I failed even in this contest...
Sammy normally slept pretty well, but not so much on this dark and dreary night. He was restless, turning back and forth on his mattress and profusely perspiring.
Sammy was having a bad dream.
He dreamed that somebody or something was following him down a very poorly lit street, and whatever it was that was following him down that very poorly lit street was catching up to him, no matter how much more quickly Sammy ran!
But then something good happened (in the dream). He could see his house and he knew that if he could get there and close the door and lock it he would be safe because whatever it was that was following him down that poorly lit street would not be able to get him!
He was almost to his house in the bad dream when he suddenly woke up to a really, really, really loud noise.
Sammy recognized the noise as a gunshot, and he abruptly sat up on his bed. He was still perspiring profusely. He wiped the perspiration from his forehead, got out of his bed, and went to his window to see where the gunshot had came from.
Another gunshot, and this time Sammy could tell where it was coming from by the brilliant flash of light that exploded from the muzzle of the gun. His neighbor was shooting at something, and it looked like he was shooting at Sammy’s front porch!
No, he thought incredulously as he put one and one together, which amounted to two, but has nothing to do with this story. It couldn’t be!
But he knew it was.
Whatever it was that his neighbor was shooting at was the whatever it was that was following him in his dream!
Just then he heard his neighbor calling to him.
“Sammy!” his neighbor yelled. “There’s a purple monster on your front porch! I tried to shoot it but I missed, and now I’m out of bullets!”
Sammy was very frightened, as any middle-aged, blue collar construction worker would be, but he knew what he had to do. After slipping into his slippers, he walked slowly out of his room and went to the front door. He put his hand on the knob, twisted it to the left, and opened the door.
“Trick or treat!” said the purple monster in a little boy's voice.
Suddenly it all made to sense to Sammy! How stupid could he be? A complete fool! A real moron! An imbecile! Witless! Simple-minded! Inane! Childish, gullible, and just plain immature!
It was Halloween, of course, and this was just Barney The Loveable Purple Dinosaur holding his bag out and waiting for some treats.
“Hi!” Sammy said with a big smile on his face. “Let me get you some candy.”
He gave Barney a couple handfuls of bite-size Butterfingers and Barney thanked him. Then Sammy closed the door and went back to bed, happy that the night had turned out so good. But just as he laid down and put his head on his pillow…
“Hey, Sammy! I found another bullet, and I think I got him this time!”
(Please rate this no higher than half a star since it was written for the "Intentionally Bad Story Contest" !)