ComedyWriting
I Don’t Trust Anyone Who Answers the Phone Anymore...
There was a time, long ago, in a gentler and more naïve civilization, when the sound of a ringing phone meant something simple. It meant someone wanted to talk to you. That time is dead… Murdered. Buried beneath an avalanche of robocalls, extended warranties, suspicious silences, heavy breathing, and one deeply committed individual who keeps asking if you’ve considered switching to solar power, even though you live in a forest yurt, and haven’t seen the sun since 2009.
By The Pompous Post3 months ago in Humor
The Fall of the House of Fahrenheit. Runner-Up in Too Hot for This Challenge. Top Story - August 2026.
Author's Note I wrote this story as a lighthearted tribute to Edgar Allan Poe, borrowing his dark, dramatic tone and nineteenth-century storytelling style for a tale that's far less haunted by ghosts than by a relentless summer heat wave. While the voice may feel akin to, the story itself is entirely original and meant as a bit of Gothic fun.
By Tim Carmichael3 months ago in Humor
When it all Burns
Another warning on the heat index, but I want to spend time hanging out by the pool. The water is warm and any steamier would be a giant hot tub. Reapply of sunscreen and still somehow get a sun/heat rash. It burns and itches right next to bug bites and some regular sunburn. I shower off the chlorine and it all burns under the water, skin hurting and irritated while constantly pulling out creams and tying not to scratch.
By Seashell Harpspring 3 months ago in Humor
The Day the Fan Declared War
I woke before daylight because my bedroom had reached the same temperature as fresh biscuits left inside a cast-iron skillet. There are people who claim a body grows accustomed to heat. Those people have either never experienced true summer or have made peace with lying to strangers.
By Tim Carmichael3 months ago in Humor
I Live In The Fridge Now
I Live In The Fridge Now The thermometer on the wall of Francesca’s Italian Restaurant read 35.5℃, but inside Anna’s body, it was at least one hundred. At fifty-six, Anna was at the tail end of menopause, a biological phase she could only describe as hosting a private, internal barbecue where she was both the grill and the brisket.
By Alyson Smith 3 months ago in Humor
I Audited My Own Thoughts and Found Most of Them Unnecessary...
In the interest of self-improvement, clarity, and whatever passes for accountability these days, we at The Pompous Post decided to conduct a full internal audit. Not of finances, nor productivity… nor of anything useful, but that’s beside the point. We decided to audit our thoughts! Well, one of us did; the other just read it and laughed.
By The Pompous Post3 months ago in Humor
The Day Off
The air felt dry enough to age cheese, and the crickets in the tall grass were working overtime like they were getting paid per chirp. It was the perfect day to be in a pool, submerged, floating, dramatically sighing as the cold water shocked your entire system back to life. Instead, the day itself felt like a weighted blanket you couldn’t kick off, just pressing down with no intention of going anywhere. The sidewalks had officially entered “lava” status; one step too long and you’d swear your shoes were melting, just like the good old childhood game I played with my siblings, except now the consequences felt a little more real and a little more lifelike compared to a living room with couch cushions.
By Adrianna M. Braun3 months ago in Humor
River Relief
My girlfriend, Lisa and I decided to beat the July Arizona heat by taking a dip in a nearby river. We tried to coordinate our arrival down to the minute, because neither of us wanted to wait around air frying like yesterday's leftovers. I arrived just a hot minute before her – and I do mean HOT.
By Julie Lacksonen3 months ago in Humor
Hot Date. Runner-Up in Too Hot for This Challenge.
Warning: Contains suggestive content. When I first met my late husband, Ted, it was online. We were both in Arizona, just a bit over an hour away from each other. We talked about writing to begin with. He was a published author. I was working on my book series. We were both genuinely interested in each other's work. I called him my "writing guru."
By Julie Lacksonen3 months ago in Humor
