If you'd like your entry posted here also, email it to me at info@taylorthomas.com. Meanwhile, here's the winning entry, by Bantagar:

Could it be?
Surely not . . .
Never before have your eyes landed upon a form so thoroughly
twisted, so righteously malformed and so mightily malodorous, all
in one compact little body. The squinty-eyed little being before
you is vaguely dwarf-like, but only vaguely. The plethora of
assorted leather toys (OUCH) and miscellaneous layers of kinky
trinkets (HMMM . . .) about his body, combined with his
enormous, mango-shaped nose and drooping ears remind you
instantly of an Aardvark having a bad hair day. The smell
emanating from him is grotesque, a pungent combination of clam
juice, sweat socks, and diesel fuel. The fumes coming from his
underarms alone are enough to make you delay lighting your pipe.
This man may well be naturally flammable!
Of course, the worst thing about his particular creature . . . This
"PEZ" . . . is the questions. Could it be possible that this putrid,
confusing little husk of a being could be such a bastion of useless
and bizarre facts? It is as if his very skull is porous and, through
osmosis, he is sucking in all of the most asinine and trivial facts as
they course through the atmosphere. Worse yet, you are suddenly
and strangely attracted to him . . . you WANT to answer his
questions. You WANT to be part of his game. You WANT to win
his admiration. What is that huge leather whip for, anyway, Mr.
Pez, sir?

USE channel -gossip IF YOU HAVE TO!

and here's the second place entry, by Cordir:

The dwarf that stands before you is a puzzling sight indeed. His neck bears
a thin but easily seen hinge, and the sweet smell of candy wafts from every
orifice, horribly overshadowed by the clam-juice that oozes from the oceanic
treat he holds in one hand and drips from his mango-matted beard. Sweeping
off his stuffed aardvark hat, he bows comically, and warns you that Pez
triggers have been activated. How this odd, squinty looking fellow could be
the infamous Pez that both the Brass and Green Dragons found to be infinately
flmmable many a time, is beyond imagining. He rummages about in his various
pouches, bags, and bags of Merrick, and withdraws a strange, porous gray mass,
holding it aloft proudly. "The last of my good sense. Mish found it for me.
I thought I lost it in 2x when Coleman retired and I joined the Tigers!" he
exclaims. He scratches his head and mutters, "Khore kept telling me I'd never
had it in the first place, and I was starting to believe him." He turns and
wanders off, the "Kick Me" sign on his back fluttering gently in the wind.

and the third place entry, by Artanis:

All bow! Your Dwarven prince has arrived to bring meaning to into your life!
...Oh wait, it's just Pez, that flammable, porous candy machine who dispenses
yummie little candies, juicy quests...and that tangy mango juice! With your
squinty little eyes, you notice small writing across Pez's chest (or lack of),
it reads:


You ask Pez for a candy, he simply replies, (In Pez) "Let me check my list
of Pez-Quest donators...Hey!! You little aardvark, you didn't donate...now SHOO SHOO!".
Pez then proceeds to pour a TON of clam juice on you! How rude! Pez is a
small man, with bulging Dwarven muscles, ready to take down any rival candy machine,
and has a large pot prepared for Pez-Quest donations, which is surprisingly full
of gold coins! Pez sees you looking at him, and shoves his thick dwarven hand, into
your face and tells you to come back later for autographs... You have just
encountered Pez...feel privileged!

and here's my entry:

Ow! You catch yourself as you stub your toe on something hard, which goes
skittering off hapazardly across the ground. It comes to rest with a strange
noise, and stands up. At least, you assume it has stood up, since it is
slightly taller now than it was a moment ago. You peer closer, squinty-eyed,
and see an indignant creature.

"Not again!" he cries, in a strange, high-pitched dialect of dwarven that
sounds just like clam-juice being fresh-squeezed from an unwilling donor.

"For 5 points, how many times is this going to happen to me? Anyone? Going
once - twice - BIINNG! The correct answer is, apparently, 'too many'!"

He sighs and pulls back his hinged head in order to look up at you better,
revealing one of his trademark candies in the process. He takes it out and
licks it experimentally. Hm, aardvark flavor this time -- must be one of
those newfangled gourmet versions.

Tossing the candy aside, he says, "I've just about had it with these boot-
kicking introductions. Next time watch where you're going, and flick my head
back politely if you need to speak with me. Now, what was it you wanted from

He grins at your dumbfounded look.

"Oh, nevermind, don't say a word. I can see by your face that meeting my
kind is a new experience for you. It's not your fault you've never had the
opportunity to go off-world to the land of China."

He pats you comfortingly on the top of your foot.

"Well, since you don't know what it is you want of me, and since you DID kick
me (ever so rudely), let me tell you what YOU can do for me."

"I'm on a quest, you see, for new candy flavors. (You would be too if you had
tasted this aardvark one.)"

"I've tried just about everything - a mango that nearly crushed me when it
fell from the tree, an eye of newt that when squished was too much like
gelatin, a magic mushroom that soaked up half the water in the kitchen
fountain - just about everything you can imagine. But there was something
wrong with every single one: too heavy, too lumpy, too pourous, too sour,
too thick, too flammable, too soupy, you name it."

"You don't know what it's like being a little dwarven candy dispenser that
can't find the perfect flavor!"

He stifles a sniffle, and then his face brightens.

"But I've heard rumors that Ladislaw sells something truely wonderful, and I
just need a travelling companion. So, let's be off!"