Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
Totally Random
>
Humor
Haha, great idea Edward!
Me and my friend co-wrote this. I swear, she makes me weirder every time we hangout.
From a night of monster's and not sleeping:
The remaining three men in the room looked at him and rolled their eyes, sighing. In the following silence, Sebastien let out a rather chicken like squeak. Carlos mooed in response.....The 4 men are back in the lounge. Carlos starts humming a Tom Jones tune- Delilah. Urs, oblivious to his surroundings farted silently, deadly, and utterly delicately. A minute later, David remarked “Do you smell anything?” Carlos stopped his tune and took in a deep, soulful breath, thought for a minute, and said deeply and seductively, “Salami.”.......Simon Cowell chuckled, and then started laughing harder and then started choking. “Oh my goodness!” Urs cried in exclamation! Simon Cowell bangs his hands on the steerring wheel, as he turns onto the street, and his face turns a bright shade of red. “Call 911!” exclaimed Urs, in the middle of stuffing his face with panini bread. David looked up from his Lord of the Rings novel and shrugged, turning back to his book. Sebastien was still bright red of the humiliation and pain of his recent collision with the old woman. Carlos and Fernando stared out the window at a rather chesty fat woman walking a Chihuahua. Simon Cowell was still choking and was now turning an interesting hue of dark purple. Urs, being the amazing Babe he was, threw his Panini Bread with fury out the window (after rolling it down fully, then throwing it, then rolling back up again) and jumped into rescue him. Urs managed to single-handedly preform the Heimlich Manuever, CPR, and a perfect parallel parking on the opposite side of a street.
[LAWL]
Me and my friend co-wrote this. I swear, she makes me weirder every time we hangout.
From a night of monster's and not sleeping:
The remaining three men in the room looked at him and rolled their eyes, sighing. In the following silence, Sebastien let out a rather chicken like squeak. Carlos mooed in response.....The 4 men are back in the lounge. Carlos starts humming a Tom Jones tune- Delilah. Urs, oblivious to his surroundings farted silently, deadly, and utterly delicately. A minute later, David remarked “Do you smell anything?” Carlos stopped his tune and took in a deep, soulful breath, thought for a minute, and said deeply and seductively, “Salami.”.......Simon Cowell chuckled, and then started laughing harder and then started choking. “Oh my goodness!” Urs cried in exclamation! Simon Cowell bangs his hands on the steerring wheel, as he turns onto the street, and his face turns a bright shade of red. “Call 911!” exclaimed Urs, in the middle of stuffing his face with panini bread. David looked up from his Lord of the Rings novel and shrugged, turning back to his book. Sebastien was still bright red of the humiliation and pain of his recent collision with the old woman. Carlos and Fernando stared out the window at a rather chesty fat woman walking a Chihuahua. Simon Cowell was still choking and was now turning an interesting hue of dark purple. Urs, being the amazing Babe he was, threw his Panini Bread with fury out the window (after rolling it down fully, then throwing it, then rolling back up again) and jumped into rescue him. Urs managed to single-handedly preform the Heimlich Manuever, CPR, and a perfect parallel parking on the opposite side of a street.
[LAWL]
Wow ...This one would be funnier if I had some time to work on it, and in context of reading what actually happened to Septimus, but I'm planning something like this for book two:
Terry sat on the park bench and tried to hide his shame at how his day had turned out. He had screwed up the pick up, somehow lost Septimus, and now had to wait by himself for a meeting he didn't have the least idea of handling. Well, almost by himself.
At the moment Septimus appeared in front of him, as if the Chicago concrete had spontaneous begotten him (which, giving it's history, wouldn't be too surprising). He breathed heavily and pulled his shirt temporarily away from his sweat soaked chest. Terry blinked at him.
"How did you get here?"
Septimus almost couldn't draw in breath for his two word reply. "I ran."
Terry looked his friend up and down for a silent moment. Septimus went for a run just about every day, and claimed to have such habits in the hills of Wyoming. Terry knew from experiance that much training doesn't usually result in heavy, painful breathing from a simple jog. Septimus clearly saw the gears moving in his partner's head.
"Don't," he gasped. "Don't ask ... 'till later."
"Okay. Want to sit down?"
Septimus shook his head, made some incoherent remarks about cooling down, and started to pace in front of the park bench. Terry watched him in silence, wondering what made Septimus run so fast as to cross a good deal of the city in such a short time. Finally he sat down, but neither of them spoke about what happened in the past hour. In fact they didn't speak at all for nearly two minutes.
Finally, Septimus spoke. "Terry?"
"Yes?"
"What's with the dog?"
Terry looked down at the same dog that inturrupted the pick up twenty minutes ago. It licked his upper pants leg contentedly.
"Caucasan Shephard. Really quite loyal, if you treat them right."
"That dog is as big as a smart car."
"Yes, well, if yer don't treat them right, then they can bite through your leg in one go."
Septimus closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He didn't speak for so long that Terry thought he might've passed out.
"You're not bringing him back to the church," he said finally. "Father Mark already has enough grey hairs from accomidating your other mutt."
Terry decided not to dispute that just yet.
"On the first day of Easter my true love gave to meA basket full of grass and jelly beans.
On the second day of Easter my true love game to me
Two chocolate bunnies
And a basket full of grass and jelly beans."
"You can't possibly have something for all fifty days. Can you?"
Or, alternatively:"If you sing all fifty days, we won't bother with a rock for your tomb."
Well, my books arent amusing, but I love quoting Psych!"Gus, don't be a exaclty half of an 11 pound black forest ham."
"Gus, don't be this crevice in my arm."
"Gus, don't be an incorrigable Eskimo pie with a caramel ribbon."
"Gus, don't be a gooey chocolate chip cookie."
"Gus, don't be Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Marzipan."
"Gus, don't be a wet sponge with hair on it."
"Gus, don't be a miopic chihuahua."
"Gus, don't be a rabid porcupine."
"Gus, don't be an American adaption of a British Gus."
"Gus, don't be the Third Thompson Twin with dreadlocks."
"Gus, don't be the sock that got lost in the dryer!"
"In between the lines there's a lot obscurityI'm not inclined to resign to maturity
If it's alright, then you're all wrong
Why dance around to the same damn song?
You rather run when you can crawl.
I know, you know
That I'm not telling the truth
I know, you know
They just don't have any proof
Where's the deception?
Learn how to bend.
Your worst inhibitions
Tend to psych you out in the end."
The large SVU accellerated even faster than Terry's Rolls Royce could manage. He swore fluently, but Septimus was too terrified at being inside a metal box flying down a dirt road a ninty miles per hour to be surprised at this uncharacteristic profanity.Abruptly, Terry realized something.
"I am a complete idiot."
"Anyone who drives like this is an idiot," Septimus agreed without unclenching his teeth.
Terry kept his foot on the gas for just a bit longer, as the SVU inched closer. "Sorry, in advance."
"For what?"
"Prepare for impact."
He slammed on the brakes. Septimus's own profanity was cut off by the clash of metal on fiberglass. The passenger's face snapped forward, and his nose broke on the dashboard. The driver managed to set his entire body against the surprisingly easy impact. Or, not hard impact, more accurately.
Terry laughed in relief when he saw the considerable damage done to the SUV and the men inside, and the comparatively minor damage to his Rolls Royce.
"1930 model - long before the metal in cars was replaced with fiberglass. That big-ol' SUV didn't stand a chance."
He flashed a grin at Septimus only to find his partner glaring at him with his hand covering his face.
"What is it."
Septimus moved his hand, revealing a copious drip of blood spewing from the middle of his face. "Get some damn airbags."
"Raggedy Anne Rule One: Never ask her questions.""Why not?"
"I don't know; I never asked."
"Right, I believe you were about to nag me?"
Depressing stuff can have humor. Shakespeare's tragedies are hilarious. Father Brown and the Dresden Files are all about people dying and yet the latter is a constant first-person narrative of a smart-mouth wizard and the former is about an apparantly absent-minded priest solving crimes, usually involving murder.At the end of one Father Brown he unsettles the criminal (a thief this time) by naming off several criminal techniques they could have traded:
"I rather wonder you didn't stop it with the Donkey's Whistle."
"With the what?" asked Flambeau.
"I'm glad you've never heard of it," said the priest, making a face. "It's a foul thing. I'm sure you're too good a man for a Whistler. I couldn't have countered it even with the Spots myself; I'm not strong enough in the legs."
"What on earth are you talking about?" asked the other.
"Well, I did think you'd know the Spots," said Father Brown, agreeably surprised. "Oh, you can't have gone so very wrong yet!"
"How in the blazes do you know all these horrors?" cried Flambeau.
The shadow of a smile crossed the round, simple face of his clerical opponent.
"Oh, by being a celibate simpleton, I suppose," he said. "Has it never struck you that a man who does next to nothing but hear men's real sins is not likely to be wholly unaware of human evil?"
Father Brown is less depressing than the Dresden Files, in which he hovers throughout most of the books right next to Death and falling in to evil - all while not quite failing to pay the rent. And it's even funnier.
A little television humor:"Why would I want to go to Disney World?"
"Because it's a magical kingdom with great security and lots of witnesses."
"You're a recovering alcoholic fighting crime and you live above a crook bar?"
"My name is not Lenny, Mr. Farmer, but if it was I would have been incredible."
"No you would have not."
"Would've brought tears."
Lol. Great security and lots of witnesses.
That sounds like an excellent reason to go.
Okay, weather of not this is funny entirely depends on the tone of voice:"You have to respect the weapon. It is not a toy, it is a tool of death ... mostly in the sense that, if there is a death, it should make sure it is not your own."
I remember that. It still cracks me up.
Real life:Aidan pushes against the gate blocking the kitchen. The gate, not so secure, falls over with him on top of it.
Little voice, "Uh-oh."
Alex wrote: "The old man cleared his throat and with a long, drawn out, scratchily voice he loudly announced, “Sixty-five years ago there was a-“Mae rolled her eyes. “Oh dear, Lord not this again.”
“-fire in..."
Haha. Nice.
Edward wrote: "Real life:Aidan pushes against the gate blocking the kitchen. The gate, not so secure, falls over with him on top of it.
Little voice, "Uh-oh.""
Lol. Cute.
Burn Notice:IRS audit, bringing up a gun.
"Then there is this."
"You wanted documentation of my time in the Middle East. That's it. I got it off a guy over there."
"Oh, so you stole it."
"I didn't steal it. He was done with it."
"So it was a gift."
"It's not a gift. There was this thing, then ... the gun didn't have an owner anymore."
"... I think we'll just mark that down as ... windfall income."
"How many people have you killed?""Depends. Are you part of PETA? Because if animals are people, I think I've killed enough to be invited to a peace conference."
Odd Thomas:Every minute that it advanced from sunrise, the morning became hotter. The gods of the Mojave don't know the meaning of the word moderation.
Don't you really hate it when you lose work? I wrote up this lovely piece about Septimus eating fastfood for the first time in his life and because of an internet glitch it vanished.... I'll type it up again later.
Here's the short, one-liner version."So, you've only had home cookin' your entire life."
"Yes, and we generally don't cover our meat in fluffy communion wafers."
Job hunting: Playing the lottery, except instead of dollars we're gambling a little piece of our sanity, and instead of a few dozen million bucks we're hoping for a chance to be wage slaves.
While Terry found the classes anything but educational, that didn't mean he learned nothing at school. He had, over the years, learned three very important facts that add up to a frightening syllogism. All public schools follow a standardized format. Standardized formats are invariably boring. Boredom almost always leads to violence or carnal pleasure. Therefore -Anyway, as soon as he legally could ignore the prison-like building with its solid brick walls, reinforced locks, and barbed wire fence, Terry visited Moorboro High only rarely.
Surely others have humor bits to share. More than Alex and me, I mean."Drama is easy. Comedy is hard." - Oscar Wilde (paraphrased)
Dean Koontz ... very Dean Koontz.Burn Notice
"There's about four feet of clearance under most commercial semi truck trailers. It is possible to slide a motorcycle underneath it, but it's dangerous. Go too low and you'll be scattered across the pavement. Go too high and any part of your body that hits the trailer will no longer be part of your body."
"Someone's getting a little too flirty for his own good."
"I'm trying to snatch her tie her to a chair."
"You are not helping your case."
"This is just a harmless game of cat and mouse between me and a professional killer!"
"Fighting for the little guy is for suckers. We all do it sometimes, but the trick is to get in and out without becoming too involved. It's ... a trick I never mastered."
Ah, anger management joke rarely fail. I think that should be a speciality of Terry's, since he has a different definition of "scary situation."The italian pointed the gun at the new adult, the grip parralel with the ground. "Tell me what the O'Connell found out, hick!"
Terry looked thoughtful, though, as always, his face would not discard the natural smile. "Lord bless you, you know as much about threatening someone as a Saint Bernard. Okay, first of all, boss, I'm from the coastal side of Cackalacki - hicks live mostly in the mountains and such. But that ain't as important as the sad way you're holding that ... Is that a .22?"
"What the hell are talking about?"
"Okay, sensitive subject. I guess your bosses don't think you need a bigger gun ... or can handle one. Anyway, stop tryin' look all cool and hold your gun properly. This is always the problem with cities - no one knows how to handle firearms. Straight up and down, that's it ... now use both hands. A .22 may not have much a kick (comparatively), but if you'll have more control if one of my friends surprise you and you have to switch targets.
"Now one more thing: Aim for my torso. Apart from being uncertain of your shot, a .22 at close range is much scarier when pointed at the torso, because it bounces around the rib cage, tearing up the heart and lungs, nicking arteries, fracturing ribs - it's quite greusome."
The gangster looked slightly nauseous, but turned his gun upright, held it with both hands, and aimed at Wrixon's chest.
"There," Terry said with a note of pride. "Now you're a true threat."
And, in a much later story, he gives tips to someone torturing him.Comedy is very difficult. One tough choice is discerning when a joke is a good running joke, or just overused. I think Terry giving advice to his enemies should be a good running joke if I do it about once or twice a book.
Ha ha."I think those pancake things you made for me messed me up."
"First time eating them, right? It'll take your body some time to adjust."
"I don't think I want my body to adjust. I'll be happy just sticking with my spinach and brocolli cooked in the juices of the ten inch steak they'll be joining on the plate."
Terry's eyes glazed over and he made a delighted humming sound at this description. Then he said, "Eh, I'll still eat pancakes as well."
Watson: Why don't you trust him?Policewoman: Because he's a psychopath.
Sherlock: *walks in abruptly* I'm a highly functioning sociopath; do your research. *grabs something and walks out*
- from Sherlock: A new sleuth for the twenty-first century
Terry frowned, creasing his face the wrong way. "I'm not incessiantly cheerful. That would be terrible."
"Okay, I've done excellently on stage one of any investigation: Gathering data. I've filled my living room wall with news report, notes from observations, photos, and the like all pinned up to an expanded map of this sad, sad town according to location and pin color according to time frame and weather the detail was social, political, economic, meterologic, or energy-specific.""You had enough colors for all that?"
"The Dollar Tree a half mile from here had even more, but I ran out of uses for them.
Firefly:Mal: You seem to be of the mind that your wife just follow my orders blindly - well she don't.
Wash: Oh, really?
Mal: Yeah, there are pleanty of orders of mine she aint followed.
Wash: Like what?
Mal: SHE MARRIED YOU!
Mal: Jayne, can you tell me why there's a statue of you lookin' at me like I owe him something?Jayne: No, Mal, I can't.
Simon: This must be what going insane feels like.
Jayne: Hey, how's about we leave this eerie-ass piece of artwork and continue on with out increasin'ly eerie-ass day?
Mal: I don't know. This here is a spectacle worthy of a moment's consideration.
Kaylee: Everywhere I go, his eyes keep followin' me.
Wash: I think they captured him though.
Kaylee: He looks angry.
Wash: Yeah, that's kinda what I meant.
One of my favorite Wilde quotes is, “I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.”
Heh, nice.I'm not sure if any journal of mine would make an interesting read. It isn't that my life is boring (though, to an outsider, it probably is that), it's just that any attempts to write seriously about myself are disorganized and nonsensical. I never understand what I wrote when I read it over.
"If ever I were to murder someone," said the cleric, "I think it would be an Optimist."
G.K. Chesterton's Father Brown
This is one of my favorite lines from James Hilton’s Lost Horizon:“Miss Brinklow would never shirk a conclusion, even a wrong one.”
Oh, for a good laugh read The Ressurrection of Father Brown. He panics when he comes back to life and called the Vatican to insist that no miracle had occured.Serious conversation with funny ending:
(After a night of muddled drinking.)
Kaylee: You confound is all. I mean, you like me well enough and we get along, but then you go all stiff.
Simon: Well ... I ... you see.
Kaylee: See, you're doin' it now. What's so damn important 'bout being proper anyhow? It don't mean nothin' out here in the Black.
Simon: No, it means more out here. It's all I have. Me being polite is the only way to show that I ... like ... you.
Kaylee: So ... when we made love -
Simon: When we WHAT?
Kaylee: You know, you really are an easy mark.
Ah, Firefly ... the fourteen best episodes in all television.
By the way, the line about the Optimist is from the Father Brown story "Three Tools of Death".
Most of mine are from Terry Wrixon:
“And what in the name of Odd Thomas are y’all doing?”
“I like good old fashioned stare downs, but if you have somewhere to be we can save some time with a ruler.”
"Don't walk on my self-loathing. I'm currently on the brink of taking advantage of a girl who just lost her mother. Or she's taking advantage of me. Either way y'all have to let me hate myself for a while."
{Septimus snorted. "[I don't know them] personally, but I'm not looking to make friends."
"You're religious, right? Aren't you supposed to love your enemies?"
"Doesn't mean they're not enemies."}