Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo. . . .
His father told him that story: his father looked at him through a glass: he had a hairy face.

I've always liked how A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce opens, I think because it's loaded with details that leave me with questions.

You might put this one in your final category.