Humor

Bolly Me Not on the Lone Prairie
My hoss was restless when I woke. Snortin’ and stampin’ something fierce, grumblin’ and whinnyin’, champin’ at the bit. I glanced around camp. Everything looked normal, at first. Cookie already cooking flapjacks and gritty coffee. Butch already with the wheezes, humming into that old harmonica of his, like he allus did, soon’s the sun comes up. Clive whittling by the fahr, same as allus.
By Meredith Harmonabout a month ago in Fiction
Into the Smallest Room
J glares at the small room he has yet to be able to get into. He's managed to get into every room, big and small, in this whole place. Even managed to get out of the door that leads to the biggest door—though it makes their human very worried; and there are too much open for him to personally. Jay says it is better for their mission if they stayed with their human. But this small room hasn't let him inside yet. J knows one can get inside. He's seen the human take the tiny mouse out of the box and then back in. He's watched from the corner of their eyes as the human opened a latch and sprinkled seeds and grain into the fluff and the mouse peaks out and drags each morsel to the bottom.
By Mellfordabout a month ago in Fiction
The Open Mic. Content Warning.
"You've got an open mic." "Hey! Someone has an open mic. Are you trying to butt-call the whole facility? We don't need to hear you."
By Mack D. Amesabout a month ago in Fiction
Wild Princes
Cleo was not having a good day. She was having the worst day she’d had since she left Ceres, and that was really saying something since every single day on the dwarf planet was basically a prison sentence.
By Stephanie Van Ormanabout a month ago in Fiction
The House With Two Halves
CHAPTER ONE Torsten sat in the window seat in his bedroom. Half of the stained glass window was flung open, and sitting so near the window, he gave the whole court something to see. His beauty was rare and rich, as he was the youngest son of the King and Queen. He was a prince. However, he had a very different fate from the other princes of the kingdom.
By Stephanie Van Ormanabout a month ago in Fiction
Me, Myself, and I
“Alright. Get in, get out.” “What do you mean, get in, get out? You have to buy stuff for a party!” “Yeah, but I know exactly what I need to get. None of that anxious debating between two items for who knows how long. And it’s just stuff for French bread pizza. The others are bringing the rest of the stuff. And I already got the cheese at the other store. Man, I was lucky there was a sale!”
By Rebecca Pattonabout a month ago in Fiction
The devolution of the genteel ideal into a glorification of drunkenness🥂
In Primshire, the inhabitants prided themselves on their genteel manners and dignified demeanor. Tea parties, poetry recitations, and ballroom dances were the lifeblood of social gatherings. The Primshire gentry held their heads high, for they were the epitome of refinement and decorum.
By Antoni De'Leonabout a month ago in Fiction
How to Pretend You're Not Being Controlled by an Alien Parasite.
SECTION 1: MASTERING BASIC HUMAN BEHAVIOR STEP 1: Maintain Natural Facial Expressions Humans rely heavily on facial cues to determine whether another human is “acting weird,” “behaving strangely,” or “clearly possessed by something unspeakable.” To avoid suspicion, you must master the art of the casual expression.
By Sara Wilsonabout a month ago in Fiction
I Want to Be Immortal, But Not in Hell!
"Please, stop torturing me!" Putin pleaded to the demons who were propping his eyelids with hot metal rods and cutting off his lips to remove excess Botox.
By Lana V Lynxabout a month ago in Fiction
Octavia Girl Vol. I
Introduction Sardius was alone in the interview room as bright lights shone in his eyes and voices rang out from behind the blinding rays. No one was there. The voices from the panel of interviewers rang through a speaker system. He couldn’t see them, but there were cameras pointed at him like guns.
By Stephanie Van Ormanabout a month ago in Fiction
Logical Explanation
“Tommy, I didn’t get your homework.” “Mrs. Davenport, there is a logical explanation for why I have no homework.” “Yes. You didn’t do it. You had a four-day weekend to get it done. What happened?”
By David E. Perryabout a month ago in Fiction
The Baker's Paradox
Rutaa wiped the sweat draining off his bald head like a stream before drinking an entire goblet of water. The water wasn’t cool, nothing in his bakery was cool at the best of times, but the festival wasn't the best of times for a baker. He appreciated the humble reprieve none the less.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a month ago in Fiction