General
The Day the President’s Stomach Declared a National Emergency
The Conference of Ultimate Importance Once every fifty years, world leaders gather for the Global Stability Summit, a meeting designed to bring peace, cooperation, and… a lot of awkward small talk. This year’s summit was held in the newly renovated International Peace Dome, which looked like a giant egg laid by a billionaire who wanted tax breaks.
By 𝒩𝓊𝓉𝓊 𝒱. 𝒞.11 months ago in Humor
Miracle at the MacNab Transit Terminal
If you want to understand my hometown, you have to start at the MacNab Transit Terminal, the unofficial heartbeat of Hamilton—and the only place where you can witness commuter chaos, small miracles, and pigeon politics all before 9 a.m. It’s not just a terminal; it’s a stage. A place where timetables come to be ignored, announcements come to be misunderstood, and patience goes to be tested.
By Alexander Mind11 months ago in Humor
The Miss Gloria Hour with Guest Dharrsheena Raja Segarran. Content Warning.
The Opening Monologue “So, I was told today that my ratings dipped a bit on Spotify. Last week’s episode pulled in 2 million streams, compared to 2.5 million for the debut with Lil Hammertoe. I’m not supposed to talk about this publicly, but what the hoot, I’m Gloria, I break rules. Oliver Olivier and Jason Pooper Scooper are watching the numbers closely. After the sixth episode, this is the fifth, they’ll decide whether this show is a safe investment for an additional 22 episodes. If they see any slippage, the show will be wrapped up, and they’ll ship me back to Yucaipa, California faster than a corpse in a shallow grave.
By Rick Henry Christopher 11 months ago in Humor
THE LEFT-HANDED PENCIL CONSPIRACY
If you listen closely in classrooms, construction sites, cubicles, and break rooms across America, you’ll hear it. A faint, weary sigh. A sigh belonging to the forgotten, the ignored, the graphite-smudged minority known as… left-handed people.
By The Pompous Post11 months ago in Humor
Miracle at the MacNab Transit Terminal. Top Story - November 2025.
There are stories that you hear and disbelieve because you think that you live in a very rational or at least sensible world. There are stories that make you question what you are doing with your own life. And then there are the stories that come out of my hometown.
By Kendall Defoe 11 months ago in Humor
WHY DOES IT COST $100 FOR A PIZZA POCKET AND A TOILET BRUSH?
Economists, psychologists, and at least three very confused cashiers have confirmed a groundbreaking discovery. You cannot, under ANY circumstance, walk into a store for one item… and walk out with only that one item.
By The Pompous Post11 months ago in Humor
The Night the Stars Forgot to Shine
Mira had always believed that every journey carried a silent promise—some kept, some broken, and some waiting for the right moment to reveal themselves. She never imagined that her detour through a forgotten town would change the way she understood time, memory, and the invisible threads that connected strangers. The road to her sister’s home twisted like a long, lazy serpent under the fading sun. She had been driving for hours, hoping to arrive before midnight. But when her GPS suddenly froze and her phone lost all signal, she had no choice but to follow the narrow side-road that appeared out of nowhere. A creaking wooden sign hung crookedly from a post, barely readable: “Welcome to Elderhollow.” The town was eerily quiet. No movement behind windows, no passing cars, not even the distant hum of night insects. Mira slowed the car, scanning the dim streets lined with old-fashioned lamps that glowed faintly—as if someone had painted light into glass rather than letting it shine. She parked near what looked like a small café. The sign on the door read Open, but the inside was empty except for a flickering bulb overhead. She stepped inside, calling out, “Hello? Anyone here?” Her voice echoed, swallowed by silence. When she turned to leave, someone stood in the doorway—a young girl with tangled brown hair and a lantern dangling from her hand. “You shouldn’t be here after dark,” the girl said softly. Mira’s heart jumped. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to trespass. I just need directions. My GPS died.” The girl tilted her head, her eyes reflecting the lantern light. “Things here don’t work like other places. Time doesn’t like to move at night.” Mira tried to laugh, but it came out shaky. “What’s your name?” “Lyla.” “How old are you?” Lyla thought for a moment, as if calculating the answer. “Ten. I think.” “You think?” The girl stepped forward. “Come with me. Before the stars remember.” Mira didn’t understand what that meant, but something in the girl’s trembling voice convinced her to follow. Lyla walked quickly, leading her through narrow streets where shadows stretched too long and carried shapes that shifted when Mira blinked. They reached a small square in the center of town. A massive clock tower stood there—its hands frozen at 10:12. Mira pointed. “Is the clock broken?” “It stopped years ago. The same night everything else did,” Lyla whispered. “The town only moves in daylight now. But you came at the wrong hour.” Cold air brushed Mira’s shoulders, and she shivered. “Where are your parents?” Lyla looked toward the tower. “They’re here. Everyone still is. Just… not the way you mean.” Before Mira could ask what that meant, the lamps around the square flickered wildly and went black. The ground trembled. Mira grabbed Lyla’s arm. “What’s happening?” “The stars,” Lyla said, her voice cracking. “They’re waking up.” Mira looked up—and her breath froze. The sky was full of stars, but they weren’t still. They moved, swirling like a slow, heavenly storm. And each time they shifted, Mira felt a tug in her chest, as though they were pulling memories out of the air—memories that weren’t hers. Visions rushed through her mind: a town celebration, children running through the square, music drifting from the café… and then darkness, a shockwave of silent light, and the clock tower’s hands slamming to a stop at 10:12. She gasped. “What was that?” “The night Elderhollow was caught between moments,” Lyla said. “The stars weren’t meant to shift that night. Time missed a step. And we fell through it.” Mira stared at her. “Then you’re—” “We’re stuck,” Lyla said simply. “But you’re not. You can leave.” “How? My car won’t even start.” “You don’t need the car. You just need to walk. Out of the square, down the main road, and don’t look back. If you look at the stars while they’re moving… they’ll notice you.” Mira felt her legs shaking. “Come with me, Lyla.” The girl’s eyes softened in a way no living child’s ever should. “I can’t. I’m still here. You’re not.” The stars pulsed brighter, their light spilling into the streets like liquid silver. “Go,” Lyla said. Mira ran—through the empty town, past flickering lamps, past houses full of unmoving lives. She didn’t stop, didn’t breathe, didn’t dare look up. The moment she crossed the old wooden sign again, a wind rushed past her, warm and heavy, like a door slamming shut behind her. She turned. Elderhollow was gone. The road stretched out behind her, empty and dark, with no sign of a town ever existing. Her phone buzzed in her pocket—it suddenly had full signal. She drove away, hands trembling, replaying Lyla’s final words again and again. Some towns lived. Some towns died. And some were simply forgotten by time— but not by the stars.
By Abubakar khan 11 months ago in Humor
The Miss Gloria Hour with Guest: Ziggy. Top Story - November 2025.
The Board Meeting “I have one last comment before this meeting adjourns,” Jason Pooper said. “Gloria, the glamorous makeup without your glasses received very low ratings. Put your glasses back on. People want your classic look.”
By Rick Henry Christopher 11 months ago in Humor
⭐ THE NIGHTMARE OF COUNTING STICKS
When I was seven, I started first grade. Back then the world hadn’t gone completely mad yet, and no one expected children to enter school already knowing how to read, write, or add. Don’t get me wrong — I knew a few things; my brother and I grew up in a family of teachers. But no one demanded superpowers from six-year-olds. In those days, we went to school to learn, not to be called “young scholars” from day one.
By Erian Lin Grant11 months ago in Humor
