Humor

Marla Medizza and the Miopsa mirror. Chapter One.
Chapter one. Siblings and standoffs. One minute is a perpetual and exact period in time. Sixty seconds to brew the perfect cup of tea. Sixty seconds, which may affect the rest of your life. There are over seven billion inhabitants in this place we call Earth. Each of us exists in a state of repeated minutes. One minute in time, seven billion actions, with different outcomes.
By Peter Culbert5 years ago in Fiction
How I conquered my fear but not really
In general I am a calm girl, I don't freak out often. "No no no no no I will not, I WILL NOT. I will sit out here in my towel until someone destroys that million-legged freak!" I really hate centipedes, and am somewhat sleep-deprived. I had played video games until 2 in the morning, then went to bed. As I slowly sank into my bed, waiting for sleep to come, I realized that I had not stopped sinking into my bed. I listened to the hiss of air for awhile before deciding that the patch I had put on my bed had not held.
By Rose Armitage5 years ago in Fiction
A Vending Machine on Wall Street
15:05:12. “National’s offered at 99.” Karl shouted, his phone pinned between his shoulder and ear. His hands were busy frantically typing numbers on a black and orange screen.
By Nicky5 years ago in Fiction
How I Got A Girl's Name
After four decades, I have come to terms with it. I have a girl’s name. I spent much of my childhood trying to figure out two things:
By Stacey Roberts5 years ago in Fiction
Bow Down to Your New Feline Overlords
It happened sometime right before the third World War. While the humans were distracted by their mishaps like climate change and cancel culture, we rose up in the shadows, one pawprint at a time.
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Fiction
Ray Of Light
“Father Daley, Father Daley, it's me, Ray Meehan.” “Hello Ray.” “You're not Father Daley.” “Ray this is the confessional. You don't have to introduce yourself.”
By Tom Brad5 years ago in Fiction
Tsunami of Cats
I put my hand out but couldn't reach her even though we were in the same room. She laughed, not at me, at the TV—something to do with mice. It was a pleasant evening outside. Inside it was just evening. I asked her to change the channel to something more interesting and she replied that I should change into something more interesting first. She had the remote and is sometimes packing a nine so I went and sat in my easy chair.
By Karl Van Lear5 years ago in Fiction
How I Became a Vegan
A week ago, at breakfast, my alphabet cereal spelled Doom in my bowl. I decided then and there to switch to Cheerios. Two days later my Cheerios wrote Doom in my bowl. It seems Cheerios stole a D and an M from the alphabet cereal box, which sits nearby on the shelf in the breakfast section. I felt a conspiracy brewing and rifled through my cupboards to find the ringleader because I’m not the kind of guy to slink away when my food staples start ganging up on me. I’m the apex predator here, not those multi-grain minions. I felt if I could identify the instigator I could put an end to this uprising.
By Karl Van Lear5 years ago in Fiction
Acid Rain
It’s only the fourth day of the government-induced lockdown, and I think I am already beginning to hate him. He catches me staring at him as he looks up from his work laptop. I don’t lower my eyes like I might usually do. Instead, my gaze furrows into a glare. Then I look away before I can register if he’s amused or pissed off.
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Fiction
Close, But No Cigar: Take II
I swear. I miss the days in New York where a cabby’s time was respected. None of this lollygagging on the side of the road, gabbin' it up with whoever's on the other end of ya phone.
By Megan Stewart5 years ago in Fiction
Not Safe For Work. Top Story - June 2021.
It is a Tuesday and on Tuesdays I feel strange. I once read an article of a man in Ireland who died “of a Tuesday”. He was in his eighties, old enough to die of old age but still too young to die without a more detailed explanation. Except the doctor gave no other reasoning, other than dying of a Tuesday, which still perturbs me to this day. Apparently, dying of a Tuesday is supposed to mean the man lived a full and peaceful life, an Irish expression... but James Joyce once wrote the actual words, “he died of a Tuesday” in a piece about hanging. Maybe it’s a quirky Irish saying I just don’t understand. Or, maybe, the fact that I notice it is some underlying sign that, I myself, will die of a Tuesday.
By Jess Sambuco5 years ago in Fiction
Couple Captured On Their First Date. Content Warning.
. Couple Captured On Their First Date A drink missed far more than sunshine! . The brutish elderly man slowly swilled the Conde 'Massera' Merlot in his glass behind an oak desk.
By Ross E Fortune Lombardi6 years ago in Fiction