Comedians

Tom Segura Unleashes His Bad Thoughts in an Insane Sketch-Comedy Show
Tom Segura Unleashes His Bad Thoughts in an Insane Sketch-Comedy Show —A Rollercoaster Ride Through a Comedian’s Unfiltered Mind
By Tanushree Dasabout a year ago in Humor
My Cat Hates My Wi-Fi. AI-Generated.
I always thought pets hated vacuums, loud music, or maybe the mailman. My cat? He declared war on the Wi-Fi. It started subtly. Whiskers, my orange tabby, would perch by the router and stare at it like it owed him rent. At first, I thought he was just curious—cats do weird things. But then he started knocking it over. One morning, I woke up to find the router unplugged. I blamed myself. Maybe I tripped on the cable. The next day, the router was missing altogether. I found it under the couch with a suspicious amount of cat hair around it. “Whiskers,” I said, picking it up. “What are you doing, buddy?” He blinked at me, innocent as ever, then casually sauntered over to knock over my phone, which was charging nearby. That was when I started putting the pieces together. Whiskers didn’t like my phone either. Or my laptop. Every time I was online, he’d hop onto the keyboard, meow aggressively, or knock things off the desk. Still, I thought it was attention-seeking behavior. I bought new toys, upgraded his food, gave him more playtime. But nothing worked. The more I used the internet, the more chaotic he became. One night, as I was on a video call for work, he jumped onto the desk and sat directly in front of the webcam. Just sat there, glaring. "Is that a cat?" my boss asked. “Yes, sorry—he’s been a bit clingy lately.” “He’s… really staring.” “I think he hates the Wi-Fi,” I said, half-joking. But it wasn’t a joke anymore. I started documenting the incidents. Every time I streamed a movie, tried to upload something, or joined a Zoom meeting, Whiskers would appear. He’d unplug things, sit on devices, and once he even knocked my entire mug of coffee onto the router. I had to buy a new one. The vet said he was healthy. The behaviorist said he was probably stressed. My mother said I should just get off the internet more often and pay attention to him. So, I decided to test that. I went a full day without using any device. No phone, no laptop, no TV. Just me and Whiskers. He was… delightful. He cuddled, purred, and even brought me one of his toys, which was a rare sign of affection. He acted like a completely different cat. The next day, I opened my laptop to check emails, and bam—he jumped onto the keyboard and pressed his paw on the power button until the screen went black. That’s when it hit me. Whiskers didn’t hate the Wi-Fi. He hated what it took from him: me. He missed the mornings when I wasn’t scrolling while drinking coffee. He missed the quiet evenings on the couch without my phone glowing in my face. He missed attention, warmth, time. Feeling guilty, I made a schedule. Mornings were for devices, afternoons were for chores, and evenings were for Whiskers. I turned off the Wi-Fi after 7 p.m. and stuck to it. At first, he was skeptical. He sat by the router, waiting for the glow. But eventually, he accepted it. He even started purring when I turned the switch off, as if he knew: this was our time. We found balance. But the final test came when my friend asked me to catsit her kitten, Luna, for a week. Luna was small, energetic, and obsessed with chasing shadows. She also didn’t care about the Wi-Fi. Whiskers, on the other hand, glared at her every time she batted at the blinking router lights. On day three, I caught him trying to teach her to unplug the router. He had nudged the plug out just enough so the signal flickered. Luna clumsily pawed at the cable while Whiskers sat nearby like a tiny feline professor. I couldn’t stop laughing. In the end, Whiskers didn’t hate the Wi-Fi. He just wanted to remind me that connection—real connection—was more important than being connected. So now, every night, when the clock hits seven, I flip the switch. The router goes dark. Whiskers curls up in my lap. And for a few hours, the world goes quiet, except for the soft sound of purring. Sometimes, I think he’s the smartest one in the house.
By Nickabout a year ago in Humor
I’m My Own Grandpa
What if I told you there’s a man who once said, in total seriousness: “I am my own grandfather.” No, this isn’t science fiction. It’s one of the funniest, most brain-bending jokes ever told — a perfect storm of family marriages, step-relations, and social labels that fold into themselves like an origami puzzle from another dimension.
By Keramatullah Wardakabout a year ago in Humor
Mr. Bean Goes to the Dentist
It was a bright, cheerful Monday morning in Mr. The peaceful English neighborhood of Bean. The sun peeked over rows of red-brick houses, the birds chirped merrily, and a milkman hummed as he delivered bottles.
By sadhin khanabout a year ago in Humor
The Great Yard Sale Wars of Maple County.
Every neighborhood has a neighbor. Edna Mae Ferguson was there in Maple County, Ohio. Edna Mae was the yard sale queen—she was the unrestrained Empress. She topped every spring with shelves of color-coded bric-a-brac sold sensibly and advertised "free coffee with every $10 purchase." Nobody ever figured out how she did it, and she always seemed to have tons of stuff to sell. Either in gathering some or a fence for the second-hand store a block away, people would use to gossip. The whole lot of yard sales in bulk just in order to net a quarter resale, others suspected. Unrelenting. On the whole, in lighthearted jest, that could be grist for mockery throughout Maple County, stakes were high this year.
By Pen to Publishabout a year ago in Humor
The Crazy Kite-Flying Fiasco
Hi, I’m Emma! I’m 10 years old, and I love sunny days because that’s when we get to do fun stuff outside. Last spring, my family decided to fly kites in the park, and it turned into the goofiest day ever! My little brother Jack, who’s 6, my Mom, my Dad, my cousin Mia, who’s 9, and our silly cat Whiskers came along. We thought it’d be a breeze—pun intended!—but the wind had other plans. Grab a snack, because this story is full of laughs! It all started when Dad said, “Let’s fly kites today! The weather’s perfect!” Mom packed a picnic with sandwiches and juice, and Jack grabbed his favorite kite—a bright red one with a dragon face. Mia brought a purple kite with stars, and I picked a blue one with a fish design. Dad said he’d bring his old kite from when he was a kid, a yellow one that looked a little wobbly. Whiskers, our fluffy tabby, watched from the porch, flicking her tail like she knew trouble was coming. We got to the park, and the wind was blowing hard—perfect for kites! Jack ran ahead, yelling, “I’m the kite king!” and tripped over a rock, landing with his kite tangled in his legs. “Oops!” he giggled, untangling himself as we all laughed. Mia and I got our kites ready, and Dad tried to set up his. But the yellow kite had a broken string, and when he pulled it, the whole thing flopped into a bush. “It’s fine,” he said, brushing off leaves. “I’ll fix it!” Mom spread out the picnic blanket, and we started eating. Jack took a big bite of his sandwich, but the wind snatched his hat and sent it sailing across the grass. “My hat!” he shouted, chasing it. The hat bounced into a puddle, and when Jack picked it up, it was a soggy mess. “Now it’s a swimming hat!” Mia joked, and we all cracked up as Jack put it back on, dripping water down his shirt. Then it was kite time. I ran with my blue fish kite, and it soared high—until it dove straight into a tree! The tail got stuck, flapping like a fish out of water. “Help!” I called, and Dad tried to climb the tree, but he’s not very good at climbing. He got one branch up, slipped, and landed on his back with a *thud*. “I’m okay!” he groaned, laughing as Mom rushed over with a napkin for his muddy hands. Mia’s purple star kite was next. She let it go, and it zoomed up—then tangled with Jack’s red dragon kite in midair! The two kites spun together like a crazy dance, crashing into the picnic table. Sandwiches flew everywhere, and a juice box popped, spraying purple liquid all over Mia’s shirt. “I’m a juice monster!” she yelled, striking a funny pose as we rolled on the grass laughing. Dad finally got his yellow kite fixed, but the wind was wild now. He ran to launch it, but the kite yanked so hard it pulled him off his feet! “Whoa!” he shouted, sliding across the grass on his belly like a kite surfer. The kite soared high, then crashed into a lamppost, wrapping around it like a yellow snake. Jack clapped and said, “Dad’s flying too!” Mom couldn’t stop giggling as she helped Dad up, his shirt covered in grass stains. Then Whiskers decided to join the fun. She’d been napping by the blanket, but the flying kites got her curious. She leaped at Mia’s kite string, which was still on the ground, and got all tangled up! Her fluffy tail swished, and she meowed like, “Get me out!” I tried to untangle her with a stick, but she jumped, and the stick flew into the air, landing in the pond with a *splash*. A duck quacked and swam away, looking annoyed. The wind kept getting crazier. My tree-stuck kite finally broke free and sailed across the park, hitting a picnic bench where some kids were eating. “Sorry!” I yelled, running after it, but it kept going, landing in a bush with a family of squirrels. They chattered and started chewing on the tail! “My kite’s squirrel food!” I laughed, and Jack said, “Let’s give them the dragon too!” Mia and Jack tried to launch their kites again, but the wind tangled them with Dad’s lamppost kite. Now all three were a big knot in the sky, spinning and dipping. Dad grabbed a long stick to pull them down, but he tripped over Whiskers—who was still tangled—and fell into the pond! *Splash!* Water splashed everywhere, and Dad came up holding a slimy stick, shouting, “I caught a fish!” Mom doubled over laughing, and even Whiskers meowed like she was in on the joke. By now, our picnic was a disaster—sandwiches in the grass, juice on Mia, Dad soaked, and kites everywhere. But the funniest part was yet to come. A park ranger walked over, scratching his head at the mess. “What’s going on here?” he asked. Before we could answer, the wind grabbed Jack’s dragon kite again, and it flew right onto the ranger’s hat! He flailed, trying to get it off, and fell backward into the grass, the kite flapping like it was attacking him. “Help!” he yelled, and we all lost it, laughing so hard we could barely breathe. Mom finally calmed us down and said, “Let’s call it a day!” We gathered what was left—torn kites, a wet hat, and a muddy stick—and headed home. Dad dripped water all the way, saying, “Next time, we’ll check the wind!” Mia drew a picture of the ranger with the kite hat, and we hung it on the fridge. Jack kept wearing his soggy hat, calling it his “kite-fighting gear.” That night, we ate pizza inside, still giggling about the fiasco. Whiskers purred on the couch, probably plotting her next kite attack. The kites were a mess, but the day was the best kind of crazy. Now, whenever we talk about flying kites, we say, “Remember the day the wind took over!” It’s a story we’ll tell forever—and maybe next time, we’ll leave Whiskers inside!
By Fahad Ghaniabout a year ago in Humor
What Happens at HYPROV? Here's What the Audience Thinks
If you’ve ever wondered what happens when you mix hypnosis with improv comedy, HYPROV is your answer—and it's unlike anything you've seen on stage. A groundbreaking live experience that combines two seemingly unrelated performance arts, HYPROV has been making waves across the U.S. and Canada. But what exactly is it, and what do audiences really think after the curtain falls?
By Kenzie Scottabout a year ago in Humor
The Backyard Campout Chaos
Hey, I’m Max! I’m 11 years old, and I love adventures—especially when they go totally bonkers! Last summer, my family decided to camp out in our backyard. It was supposed to be a fun night under the stars with my little sister Lily, who’s 7, my Mom, my Dad, our goofy dog Bingo, and even my Aunt Sue, who’s always up for something wild. But instead of a peaceful campout, it turned into the silliest mess ever! Grab a marshmallow, and let me tell you what happened!It all started when Dad said, “Let’s camp in the backyard! It’ll be easy and fun!” Mom loved the idea because we wouldn’t have to drive anywhere, and Lily shouted, “Yay! We can roast marshmallows!” I was excited too—I imagined sleeping in a tent, telling ghost stories, and eating s’mores. Aunt Sue, who was visiting, clapped her hands and said, “Count me in! I haven’t camped since I was a kid!” Even Bingo wagged his tail, like he knew something fun was coming.We dragged out our old tent from the garage. It was a big blue one with poles and ropes, but it smelled a little like wet socks. “It’s fine,” Dad said, shaking it out. “We’ll air it out!” Mom grabbed sleeping bags, Lily found her flashlight, and I helped carry the cooler full of hot dogs and snacks. Aunt Sue brought a guitar, saying, “Every campout needs music!” We set up in the backyard, right under our big oak tree. The sun was setting, and it looked like the perfect night—until we tried to put up the tent.Dad opened the tent bag, and a million pieces spilled out—poles, stakes, ropes, and a crumpled instruction sheet. “No problem,” he said, scratching his head. “I’ve got this!” But five minutes later, the tent looked like a floppy pancake. Lily giggled and said, “It’s a blob, not a tent!” Aunt Sue tried to help by holding a pole, but she tripped over a rope and fell into the tent fabric, yelling, “I’m trapped!” We all laughed as she wiggled out, her hair full of grass.Finally, after lots of arguing and giggling, we got the tent standing—sort of. It leaned to one side, but Dad said, “It’s good enough!” We tossed our sleeping bags inside and started a fire in the little fire pit. Mom skewered hot dogs, and Lily roasted a marshmallow—except she held it too close and it caught fire! She waved it around, screaming, “Help! It’s a fireball!” Dad grabbed it and blew it out, but not before the gooey mess landed on Bingo’s nose. Bingo licked it off, looking confused, and we all cracked up.Then it was time for ghost stories. I went first, telling one about a spooky shadow in the woods. Lily hugged her knees and said, “Is it real?” Aunt Sue made it funnier by whispering, “Ooooh, the shadow’s coming… for your marshmallows!” We were laughing so hard—until Bingo barked at nothing and ran circles around the tent. “He’s chasing the shadow!” Lily said, and we lost it again.After snacks, we decided to sleep. We crawled into the tent—Mom, Dad, Lily, me, Aunt Sue, and Bingo, who insisted on squeezing in. It was crowded, and Bingo kept stepping on my legs. “Move over, Bingo!” I said, but he just flopped down and started snoring. Then Lily whispered, “I hear something!” We all froze. Scratch, scratch, scratch. It was coming from outside the tent! “It’s the shadow!” she squeaked. Dad peeked out and laughed. “It’s just a raccoon sniffing our cooler!” Sure enough, a fat raccoon waddled off with a hot dog bun in its mouth.We settled back down, but then the real trouble started. In the middle of the night, I woke up because my sleeping bag was wet. “Ugh, what’s this?” I groaned. Aunt Sue sat up and yelled, “The tent’s leaking!” A big raindrop plopped on her forehead. Yep, it was raining—hard! The tent’s “good enough” roof had holes, and water dripped everywhere. Lily shouted, “My pillow’s a sponge!” Mom tried to cover us with a blanket, but it soaked through too.Dad jumped up to fix it, saying, “I’ll put the tarp over the tent!” He ran outside in his pajamas, but it was dark and slippery. We heard a splat and a loud “Whoa!” Mom peeked out and gasped, “He fell in the mud!” We looked, and there was Dad, covered in goo, holding the tarp like a soggy superhero. Aunt Sue laughed so hard she snorted, and Lily said, “He’s a mud monster now!”But the chaos wasn’t over. Bingo, excited by the noise, bolted out of the tent and jumped on Dad, getting mud all over both of them. Then the wind picked up, and the tent started shaking. One of the ropes snapped, and the whole thing sagged like a melting snowman. “Abandon ship!” Aunt Sue yelled, grabbing her guitar. We all scrambled out, slipping in the mud, as the tent collapsed into a wet heap.By now, we were soaked, muddy, and laughing like crazy. Mom said, “Let’s just go inside!” So we grabbed what we could—sleeping bags, the cooler, Aunt Sue’s guitar—and ran for the house. Bingo shook mud all over the kitchen, and Lily slipped again, landing on her butt with a squelch. Dad looked at us, dripping and giggling, and said, “Well, that was a campout to remember!”We dried off with towels, made hot cocoa, and sat by the heater. Aunt Sue played a silly song on her guitar about “the night the tent went splat,” and we sang along, even Bingo, who howled like he was part of the band. The next morning, we looked at the backyard—the tent was a muddy puddle, the fire pit was a soup bowl, and raccoon tracks were everywhere. “What a disaster!” Mom said, but she was smiling.We didn’t get a peaceful campout, but we got something better—a story we still laugh about. Lily drew a picture of Dad as the mud monster, and we hung it on the fridge. Now, every summer, we talk about “the backyard campout chaos” and wonder if we should try again. Dad says, “Next time, we’re checking the weather!” But I think the mess was the best part. Perfect nights are boring—silly ones are the ones you never forget!
By Fahad Ghaniabout a year ago in Humor
The Boy Who Made the World Laugh
In a small neighborhood buzzing with tea stalls and cricket matches, lived a boy named Rafi. He wasn’t the brightest in school, nor the best at sports. But he had one gift that no one could deny — he could make anyone laugh.
By Leesh lalaabout a year ago in Humor
Why the Internet Can't Stop Arguing About 100 Guys Fighting a Gorilla
🧠 The Dumbest Smartest Question on the Internet One day, somewhere deep in a Reddit thread, someone asked the forbidden question:
By Benedict Makauabout a year ago in Humor
I Never Loved Him
Chapter 1 : The Silence After the Rain I'm sitting in the quiet kitchen, a cold cup of tea in my hands. The rain taps softly against the windows. It feels like it’s trying to wash away the memories—or cleanse them, dissolve them into the grey sky. But some memories don’t fade. Especially not the ones burned into your heart like a brand.
By JEREMIE TCHINDEBEabout a year ago in Humor
The Foolish Thief
A young man named Apang lived in a village. He was very foolish and useless. His mother used to scold him all the time for his foolishness. But it did not even fall on his ears.
By Nikita Angelabout a year ago in Humor