Humor

Curious Sir Samuel and the Suspicious Stranger
The lunchtime sun beat down on Sir Samuel as he sat and ate a meat pie. Old Lady Elsie had given it to him as he passed by on his way to report his lack of spider-slaying to Farmer Gerald. Sir Samuel drooled when the cinnamon-tinged smoky-sweet scent hit his nose before he even saw the stall where Elsie sold them. Lifting his arm to take another bite, his stewpot shield shifted to tap his elbow, and he gazed across the busy village square at Farmer Gerald’s stall. Waves of color filled the stands the farmer had placed on the counter, a veritable rainbow of fruits and veggies.
By Joshua R. Leuthold5 years ago in Fiction
One Hell of a Night
The mysterious package wrapped in brown paper arrived at our quaint little bistro. My brother and I had started it in our early twenties. That was six years ago, it is now one of the hottest restaurants in Portland.
By JBaz5 years ago in Fiction
A Losing Hand
“It’s a bomb,” Tony said. Rodney rolled his eyes. “It’s not a bomb.” Tony picked up the package from the dining table and juggled it in his arms, feeling the weight shift inside.
By Jason Barlow5 years ago in Fiction
In the front garden
The winding metallic shutters sprung open with elasticated force, clanging loudly against the roof of the lorry, exposing the top half of it’s storage space to the outside world. The clanging sound worked like a gunshot, with birds as the bullets, sending them scattering outwards from the overhead trees. Majestic mammals of the sky disbanding in pure natural rejection to the unwelcome noise. The winged wonders all squawked at the top of their lungs until their noise faded. Whether their squawking carried on after the distance numbed it, I don’t know, because quite frankly the birds are not important, so let's just shush about the birds.
By Rory 5 years ago in Fiction
The Box
The soldiers working in the Conn Barracks post office had it easy compared to their battles sweating it out in the field or in the motor pool. Yes, it was a lot of sorting, lifting, and careful handling of fragile packages and long awaited mail from home, with a lot of smoking and joking in the air conditioned offices. These pogues had it made, but you always wanted them on your side. After all, it could be your mail they were handling. Anything derogatory you had to say needed to be done a safe distance away and shared in confidence with others that would not blow your cover. Or else mail could go missing.
By cd ybarra5 years ago in Fiction
Of 2 Minds
Joe opened his postal box. His mother paid for the postal box because she thought the mail would get stolen in Joe's terrible neighborhood. After all, whenever she was there at Joe's intimate shack, she never saw any envelopes lying around. It was as if nobody wrote letters anymore, which is preposterous, so her conclusion was that there was a land pirate absconding with Joe's parcels. There wasn't. The volume of mail he received in the P.O. box was more or less the same as he had been getting. This time though, there was a brown paper package sitting diagonally in the upright space, and it appeared not to have been sent by his mother.
By Ron Kretschmer5 years ago in Fiction
Special Delivery: A Mystery Package Appeared
The morning started as usual. Karissa woke up with a long stretch and yawn, rolling her shoulders and rousing from slumber’s grip. Sunlight crept into her bedroom from behind her curtains, birds chirping outside and greeting the new day. Karissa appreciated this peaceful stretch in the morning. No matter what chaos appeared later in the day, this calm time was hers, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Heading to the bathroom to wash her face, she patted her white cat, Mitsuki, on the head in greeting. Mitsuki cracked a blue eye open with a slight “mew” before flicking her black-tipped ears, snuggling back to sleep. Mitsuki appreciated quiet, serene mornings, too; it was part of the reason the two meshed so well.
By Jessica C.5 years ago in Fiction
Infectious Smile
The green light was on. The people crossed the street, brushing shoulders and taking glances. On one side of the street, a traffic enforcer looked at the traffic light digital timer as it ran from sixty. And then he looked at the pedestrians. The digital timer flicked zero. The red light was on. The motorists suddenly beeped in deafening succession. The traffic enforcer’s eyes fell out. He gritted his newly brushed teeth. He raised up a whistle to his shaking lips and blew the air that came from his throat.
By M.G. Maderazo5 years ago in Fiction
What's in the Box
One would think I’d learned my lesson, but no, I still every now and then get the bug to clean out my closets. The problem, or perhaps the fun part, is I never know what I’m going to find. Totally felt like Forrest Gump there. Anyway, during the cleaning of the hall closet I find a package.
By Michelle McBride5 years ago in Fiction
Red Light/Green Light
“Ok,” Bethany said, climbing into the passenger seat and buckling her seatbelt. “What’s the first thing you do when you drive?”
By Tali Mullins5 years ago in Fiction
Your name is a silent space between stars
A lot of people say I tend to lie. I know I exaggerate a bit. That’s how I see it. I want you to believe me, because I’ve been through more than I want to talk about here. The last time I stood before a judge, she told me “Honesty is the path to stability and peace.” I keep thinking about that.
By Heath Hardin5 years ago in Fiction
The Bartholomew Roberts School of Wayward Pescatarian Sharks
In my thirty-plus years roaming the high seas as the most wanted pirate that ever walked the face of the earth, known back then as the rascal Black Bart, and who has sent more than my share of rotten scoundrels to the bottom of the sea to meet with Davy Jones, I can count on two fingers those poor souls who became a meal for our brethren of the sea, the sharks. Unlike their pesky counterparts who wander the earth on two legs devouring everything from cattle to pork to leaves to worms, the shark is much more choosy when it comes to putting something in its belly. I guess that's why they are referred to as pescatarians.
By Joey Lowe5 years ago in Fiction