Funny
Partner's in Crime
They had been in this sleepy town for less than 24 hours, 12 of which they had slept at this cute but somewhat dingy motel in the dessert. It was the vibe more than anything. The rooms were upgraded and clean, but the old feel of the building, there was something to it. It was if the walls told a story. The room spoke.
By Jennidoll of (jennidoll.inc)2 years ago in Humor
The Little Monsters
“Wake me up, before you go g-” “Ugh I’m really starting to HATE that song.” Kate groggily complained as she reached for her phone on the nightstand. She dismissed the alarm and before she could set the phone down, a Celine Dion song started playing, “And IIIIIIIIIEEEIIIIIIII will always love youuuuuu…” Well that was weird. After a few grumbles, she tossed her blanket to the other side of the bed with one last huff. She sat up with a long arm stretch to the sky, her silky midnight blue sleeves sliding to her elbows. She quickly found herself lost in thoughts of work and worry. Kate was a writer, she had written a couple books in the last few years that were published. They were good, but not best seller good. The pressure from her boss was on to write her first children's book. She needed inspiration. “Coffee before anything Kate.” she thought to herself while finishing her stretch. She pulled her sleeves straight and peeked over the edge of the bed to locate her slippers. But was met with nothing but the polished, wooden floor. It’s moments like these she regrets not making the time to get a nice fuzzy floor rug. She was startled back to reality by an English gentleman's voice. “So sorry madam, I was making sure Palla was prepping your morning beverage!” A zebra patterned shaggy rug appeared from the other room, Kate threw herself onto the bed with a shriek of horror. “Oh dear, not this again.” The rug stated with slight annoyance. Kate layed back on her pillow and took a deep breath. “Ok so I've finally cracked.” She waited a moment to sit up, to see if she would hear anything. *SILENCE*
By Tressa Rose2 years ago in Humor
Party Foul. Top Story - March 2025.
“Who is this person again?” I calmly asked as I adjusted my unruly boxers for the twentieth time. “A friend from college, I told you, a sorority sister. We went to their wedding, remember? The one in Italy?” Of course, how could I forget? Star-crossed lovers from the Midwest opted out of a thirty-minute drive to their local church so they could force three hundred people to buy a 1500-dollar plane ticket, yeah I remember. “And Jason remember, her husband, you and him hit it off?” We in fact did not hit it off. I clocked Jason from a mile away, slick-backed hair, Oakleys hanging from his pastel color shirt. Speaking with him only affirmed my assumptions: trust fund baby with a high seat at his daddy's company table. I was shocked he could even talk with that silver spoon in his mouth.
By James U. Rizzi2 years ago in Humor
SALT
Introduction Charlie Solevar, a man in his early 30s, returns to Salt Lake City after deployment to settle the affairs of his recently deceased paternal grandmother. He comes back to the apartment where he grew up, haunted by a flood of unresolved memories and the lingering absence of his mother, Birdie, who disappeared when he was twelve. Grief-stricken and grappling with an emotional void, Charlie spirals into a strange twilight state, convinced that the universe is trying to communicate with him through the remaining letters in expired cans of alphabet soup.
By Salomé Saffiri2 years ago in Humor
Tom's Trojan Paste. Runner-Up in Absurdist Awakening Challenge.
I switched toothpastes when the conspiracy theories finally got to me. Patty Lovarco, my seventh grade science teacher, was the first to warn me about the toxic effects of fluoride. Since then, I had done a bit of research, and searched my soul for an answer to the question: "Would my own government really do that to me?"
By A. S. Lawrence2 years ago in Humor
Mother Combs' Garden
One day early last summer, I went outside and worked in my garden, listening to the classic rock station on the radio. Busy pulling weeds and tilling the soil for new summer plants to be put in beds I was soaking up the gentle sun. The weather was beautiful that day, as I remember, and I was eager to prepare the garden for a party that weekend. I was really into the music, singing along where I knew the words, and humming where I didn’t. I didn’t hear the tiny voice behind me.
By Mother Combs2 years ago in Humor
