Humor
You have a message on the machine.
Peducah, Kentucky. 1983. A green light flashing on an answering machine. A pretty little finger with manicured nail presses play.
Heath HardinPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Argan Oil Chronicles
Argan Oil Pollution Reaches Record Levels-Dangerous Extraction Process Referred to as Smacking Mostly to Blame Experts Say Argan Oil Tree Explosion in Morocco - Image courtesy of Pixabay
Everyday JunglistPublished 3 years ago in FictionOld Habits Die Hard
Josh and Emma were extremely happy with their purchase of Lavender Cottage, in the heart of the Cotswold village of Little Brooking. They would not have able to afford anything like as upmarket as this had not Emma been the main beneficiary of a bequest from a childless aunt who had proved to be unexpectedly wealthy.
John WelfordPublished 3 years ago in FictionA Useless Organiser
Have you ever wondered where the saying “Couldn’t organize a piss-up in a brewery” comes from? Like so many well-known phrases and sayings, we have the immortal Bard, William Shakespeare, to thank for that.
John WelfordPublished 3 years ago in FictionA Winter's Tale
“Do you like my new motor”? Dave asked Jack. “Must have cost you a few bob”, said Jack. “And then a few more”, said Dave. “Want to come for a run out in it with me?”
John WelfordPublished 3 years ago in FictionIs this funny?
“Are you saying you don’t feel like a bull?” He asked the question with his usual brand of playful contempt. “Well, I do have a habit of running straight toward every red flag that I see.” I glanced up at him from the breakfast nook table and smiled, silently suggesting that present company was not excluded from this statement. When he did not smile back, I quickly shifted my gaze downward to his long legs, dangling from the kitchen counter.
Jamie EdwardsPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Bull
Claudia’s nails tapped rhythmically on the table as Simon droned on about his favorite thing in the world: Himself. Simon is our boss or as we like to call him, the Bull. If it’s not about Simon or what Simon wants, then it’s irrelevant. Every morning we have these 45-minute meetings to hear about how amazing his life is and his activities after we left work. It’s as if he thinks that we’re all waiting with bated breath to be rapt with tales of his wild bachelor life and highly derogatory debauchery.
Bryan ChimneyPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Bull
It’s 11:34pm on a Tuesday night and my bloody son is still awake. Daniel hasn’t had it easy. He’s isolated at school, trying to find his community, and being continually rejected; it’s just turning angst into his personality. One more embarrassing life event and he’ll turn to tik-tok and start dancing in public venues to My Chemical Romance or whatever the equivalent is to teenagers these days. SO… I’m trying to scrape together what little patience I have left while the never-ending chores that keep me up so late wear me thin. Each fold of the supposed “cherry-blossom fresh” washed clothes pairs with a bang, bang, bang, from upstairs. One fold, bang. He’s probably just air-guitaring. Two folds, bang. Maybe he’s re-arranging his room. Three folds, bang. He’s… OH BOY. No. That does it.
Henry the Bull
“Relax everyone. He did not mean to say that.” Winston’s calm, steady voice betrayed the scared look on his face as his life flashed before him. His cheeks ached from the force necessary to engineer a smile. The muscles around the corners of his lips began to melt against the heat of his fear.
Barnyard Mayhem
Let me set one thing straight right from the start. We chickens are far more intelligent than you might have imagined. Yes, our males’ behavior may be pathetically stupid and obnoxious, and a few specific evolutionary constraints may disadvantage us somewhat. But, putting aside those paltry limitations, we hens are quite capable of sophisticated refinement.
Brian ChampionPublished 3 years ago in FictionBlind Rage meets Dumb Luck
Blind Rage meets Dumb Luck Have you ever heard the the age old question from the Chinese; “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object”?
Andy SchoemanPublished 3 years ago in Fiction“Something About a Toreador”
The door to the recording studio flew open with a crash. In strode Hollywood icon, YouTube influencer and mega-rich actor Slush Funned, followed by a swirling cacophony of hangers-on, distant relatives, and not-worth-their-weight-in-goldfish assistants, each trying to catch the Slusher’s ear with some detail or update significant only to them.
David WhitePublished 3 years ago in Fiction