Humor
The Bartholomew Roberts School of Wayward Pescatarian Sharks
In my thirty-plus years roaming the high seas as the most wanted pirate that ever walked the face of the earth, known back then as the rascal Black Bart, and who has sent more than my share of rotten scoundrels to the bottom of the sea to meet with Davy Jones, I can count on two fingers those poor souls who became a meal for our brethren of the sea, the sharks. Unlike their pesky counterparts who wander the earth on two legs devouring everything from cattle to pork to leaves to worms, the shark is much more choosy when it comes to putting something in its belly. I guess that's why they are referred to as pescatarians.
My Secret Garden
Great Day in the Morning Like a silky parachute caught in the morning breeze; waving it’s rainbow flag of colors that radiated from it’s center like spider’s legs, the spider’s web seemed to float in midair. It hung between the branches of the Verbena. Jaye starred at the kaleidoscope of color. She appreciated this garden that supplied her with peace, beauty, sunshine and fresh air. She sat each morning on her lounge chair in the gazebo, taking in the wonders of nature that surrounded her here. “Hey, beautiful,” called a voice. Stirred from her reverie she looked up to see Jean; coffee cup in hand, walking up the path to the gazebo. Her long tanned legs, peeking out from beneath her pink terry cloth robe as she walked. “Hey beautiful yourself,” replied Jaye. Jean bent over and kissed her on her lips. Jaye took the opportunity to peek down the front of Jean’s robe at her milky white breasts. “Hey,” said Jean when she realized what Jaye was doing. “You lesbian,” she added. “Fraid so,” said Jaye with a smile. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” responded Jean bending again to give Jaye yet another kiss and peek down her robe.
Jacqueline GabriellePublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Package
He made overly certain that the contents of the package remained snuggled safely, pressed between the cotton candy packing peanuts. When he was satisfied that no damage could possibly befall the contents, he closed the brown package and sealed it tightly with bronzed packing tape. As a gesture, he shook the box once, twice, listening, ear pressed against cardboard, for any sign, however miniscule, that the contents were not firmly secured. Should any mishap befall the package, and should the contents within find peril, then his future was no more certain than the weather. Or so he was told.
Evan SchwabPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Prom
It was a depressing day over at Summerville High school when the intercom had announced that the prom was being cancelled. Many students were devastated by the news but the school year continued on as it would. Months have passed since the announcement, and most students had seemed to forgotten there ever was going to be a prom until one Monday afternoon. As classes were ending, the intercom had announced that thanks to a budget surplus in the school's funding the Summerville prom was back on! Students began to cheer but we're quickly silenced, after hearing that the prom was scheduled for that very Friday! What started as a call for celebration turned into a roar of panic. Students scattered out of their classrooms into the halls hunting for their potential date! Tommy Hernandez, an average teen boy attending Summerville High, was among those searching for their date. He knew exactly who he was after, a gorgeous young lady named Susan Vang. She was easily one of the prettiest girls in Summerville, and unfortunately for Tommy, he wasn't the only one who felt this way. By the time Tommy had found her, Susan had what seemed like miles of boys throwing themselves at her. Tommy was never someone to be easily discouraged, and being the gentleman he was he waited for his chance to ask her out. So he waited in that line... and he waited in line... And waited... And waited some more... Until finally, it seemed Susan had enough of all the empty proposals and began to walk past the line, only to meet eyes with Tommy who was waiting at the end. Feeling a spark between each other, she asked him why he was waiting there. He answered back explaining that he's been waiting in line this whole time to ask her to the prom. She smiled and noted that she could've said yes to the droves of boys before him, and that it would've been smarter to ask someone else rather than wait for her. He replied that there was no one else he'd rather go with. Seeing charm in his patience and dedication, Susan accepts Tommy's proposal to the prom. The following days would continue to test Tommy's patience as he had to wait in line for nearly everything leading up to the prom. He waited in line at the bouquet store. He waited in line at the tailor shop. He waited in line at the rental dealership. Tommy began to feel like he should start showing up earlier for these things, but that didn't change that he waited patiently in every line. The day was now Friday and everything was going perfect! All of Tommy's patience was paying off. Tommy and Susan wore stunning outfits with a beautiful bouquet and corsages to compliment. They arrived in a limousine, accompanied by a few friends and their dates. Their prom experience to this point was nothing short of amazing and the build up to entering the venue was intense! But as they passed through the doors, Tommy and Susan were met with what seemed like a very rushed, underwhelming attempt for a birthday party. So Tommy and Susan sat down, taking in their prom experience. Susan breaks the silence between them praising all the effort Tommy put into their date, acknowledging all the waiting he's done this week for her. Tommy smiles, thanks her and mentions he'd do it again in a heartbeat. Susan then tells him she would rather go out just the two of them than stay at this prom; describing it as a bad joke. Tommy looks around, then back at her and replies "Well at least there's no punch line!"
Evan TrevinoPublished 3 years ago in FictionIf Your Cat Could Talk
Have you ever wished that you could really tell what your cat or dog was saying to you? You may be an expert at reading their mews, miaows, growls, barks and gestures, but what if they could actually use words? Wouldn’t that be so much better?
John WelfordPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Master of Disaster
Sometimes my life is pure comedic disaster. To be blunt I’m an idiot with a scheme. I agreed to pet sit this pup as a means to open up a conversation with my next door neighbor, Denise. I should of just said hi. But no I had to do better. I’m complicated or better yet I make things complicated. This adorable lab was supposed to be sweet. He was the game changer to make an everlasting first impression. He's a piece of shit! The air is humid and I can barely catch my breath as I slouch over my faded blue jeans feeling the fire burning in my rib cage through my sweat drenched dress shirt. This whole master plan has gone up in smoke as I chase this black labrador around my apartment complex. It’s like this little game of his. I wipe away the sweat and dirt from my forehead. I look up and there he is Buddy just sitting there wagging his tail panting happily. “Buddy, I swear you need to get over here right now!” I shout in deep breaths. The black lab closes his mouth and cocks his head to the side waiting for me to make my move. I inch closer slowly. With each step his eyes grow wide. I take another dive for his leash and miss. Looks like I’m off to the chase again. My face gets a sloppy kiss from the moist grass and I lay there wondering why things went wrong.
Destiny Decided by a Dingy Diviner, Dice, and Dad
I am not a very decisive person. Give me an ultimatum between two choices and I will pick option three that you didn’t realise was there - to not decide anything. It could be a blessing in disguise, but I’m pretty sure it is a curse.
Eloise RobertsonPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe suspicious package was very suspicious.
It was spring break in the early ‘00s, and the world was a new and more dangerous place. The towers had fallen, and wars were being waged, but nothing stands between college-aged co-eds and their beer. The kids this year were doubling down though. With war in the air and feelings of patriotism at an all-time high, people were “partying like it was 1999,” as we used to say back in the day.
Rick WassermanPublished 3 years ago in FictionNever Judge a Cat by Its Cover
My friend, Dawn, has a beautiful full-blooded Ragdoll cat, Thumper. The cat is a giant. He must weigh thirty pounds which draws attention to the cat. This cat is not a ball of fat; instead, he is a lean cat machine. All muscle. He has large shimmery blue eyes. Because the cat is a Ragdoll, he has a dark face mask with dark boots on all four feet. One-fourth of his tail is also dark. He looks like a big, beautiful, cuddly ball of black and white love. Thumper is not.
Toni CrowePublished 3 years ago in FictionPork Pie
We had a family friend called Arthur. Of all of our friends and acquaintances Arthur was the roughest. And I mean rough as a badger’s arse. He wasn’t very educated and he was certainly opinionated but as the saying goes, he was a rough diamond and would do anything to help out (especially old ladies).
Julie MurrowPublished 3 years ago in FictionAll My Friends and Relatives Eat Shit
“Hi there. My name is Ralph and I’m a Dung Beetle. I live on the western edge of the tropical Amazon rainforest in a country called Ecuador. I very seldom see the sun because of the massive overhead canopy formed by the large tropical trees in our neighborhood. We do have a daytime and a night time though. The night time is very dark and I can often see the stars through the openings in the trees. But in the daytime, it is very difficult to see the sky. Because of the light coming through the leaves above me, everything appears to have a green tinge to it. I’ve heard that in most places in the world, daylight is white. In my forest, however, the daylight is green light.
John Oliver SmithPublished 3 years ago in FictionBlack Vulture
The Black Vulture, as its name implies, is black. Black head, black beak, black feathers... you get the idea. Black. One of the many scavengers of the Wasteland, the Black Vulture is known for its ferocious disposition and its killer instinct.
Kerry WilliamsPublished 3 years ago in Fiction