Comedy Face Slapping Short Stories & Novels

My grandfather is hit by a car, and his skull is shattered. I take the driver to court. That's when I find out my husband, Stuart Creed, who was supposedly abroad on a business trip, is suddenly at the hospital. He looks at me coldly and snaps, "Do you have any idea how important Maddy’s valedictorian announcement is? Her future can't be ruined by some car accident! Drop the case right now, or I'll cut off all your credit cards and have your grandfather kicked out of the VIP ward!" He slams the door and storms out. Before that, he snarls, "Come home when you agree. Until then, forget about calling yourself Mrs. Creed!" While I'm out desperately trying to gather money for my grandfather's surgery, a team of lawyers contacts me. Turns out the patent my grandfather once authorized to Creed Group has expired. And now, I'm the new legal owner.

I've worked with my wife, Naomi Prescott, for seven long years. Yet, she refuses to make my identity public in the company. Naomi claims that she's worried that the entire company might think of me as a man who relies on his partner. Believing her excuse, I stick to myself and keep a low profile all this time. But on the day my project team secures a ten-million-dollar business deal, Naomi is quick to make me give the credit to her childhood friend, Matthias Crowell. When faced with my questions, Naomi retorts in a matter-of-fact tone, "Matt is new to the company. Can't a veteran employee like you take care of him at work?" I'm furious, to say the least. "What if I say no?" Naomi throws a resignation letter at my face. "Well then, you can pack up and get lost, you pathetic loser!" I pack my belongings calmly and leave the company afterward. Three days later, Naomi's company is on the brink of bankruptcy. She sobs loudly as she begs me to return with her. I produce a business card and give it to her. "Sorry, but I prefer being the boss of my own company. It so happens that my company still needs a janitor. I suppose I can reserve that position for you, seeing as we used to be married and all."

Five years into my quest to conquer the male lead, Patrick Suede forgot my birthday once again. Instead, the villainess texted me, “So what if it’s your birthday? He came crawling to me at the snap of my fingers. For once, I didn’t take the System’s suggestion to break down. I replied, “Thank you. You’re the only one who remembered my birthday today.” The response back was a big question mark. My phone kept going off with notifications. “Seriously. Were you meant to send that to someone else? “Are you for real? That’s kind of sad. “What do you want for your birthday? “Forget it. I’m coming over. Since you can’t eat mangoes, I’ll get you a strawberry cake. “Honestly, you’re a handful.” … When my doorbell rang, I grinned at the System. “The mission is to romance the main character of this world. You never said it had to be a guy.”

I transmigrated into a disposable side character, and the system gave me one mission: win over the flirtatious playboy second male lead. The problem was, I’d been awkward and slow since I was a kid. So whenever he flirted with me like I was just another one of his usual targets, all I could do was stare blankly at him. “Guess where the rose is.” He stood there with both hands behind his back, hiding a bouquet of roses as he smiled at me. [Host, this is where you’re supposed to act shy.] Oh. Shy. I gave him a bashful smile, reached up, and lightly brushed my fingers over the shell of his ear. Then I pulled my hand back. “I think…” The next second, a perfect red rose appeared between my fingers as if from thin air. “It’s right here.” Silence. Two full seconds passed. Then the second male lead’s face turned bright red.

My name is Mabel Lloyd, and I make a barely decent living repairing household appliances. Two weeks ago, on a night when the rain came down heavily, I found a soaking-wet stranger huddled outside my apartment building. He was ridiculously handsome, an incredible cook and had only one glaring flaw — he was painfully shy. Whenever anyone asked his name, he would blush so hard his ears turned bright red, then stand there in complete silence, unable to get a single word out. I could not bring myself to leave him out in the rain, so I rented him the spare storage room in my apartment. Everything was fine. Until today. I heard knocking at my door and, when I went over to check who it was, the building manager was standing there with three men in black suits. The one in front flashed a badge, his expression unreadable. "Routine inspection. Bureau of Supernatural Affairs. "We have reason to believe an unregistered fox shifter may be hiding on these premises." Before I could even process what he had said, a loud clang rang out from the kitchen as a frying pan hit the floor. The very next second, my painfully shy tenant cautiously peeked around the kitchen door. A pair of fluffy white fox ears twitched nervously on top of his head and, when he spoke, his voice shook so badly it sounded like a washing machine caught in the spin cycle. "Mabel... don't open the door. They're here to drag me home for an arranged marriage."

The wedding's in half an hour, and my fiancé's assistant, this woman, just hands me this paper. Rule number one: No physical contact with him outside, not unless he explicitly permits it. Rule number two: Intimacy is to occur only when he initiates it. She is obligated to satisfy his desires at least once a month. Rule number three: He can demand his due at any time, any place, and she cannot refuse. ... After I finished reading this entire two-page contract, I had to fight to keep a smile on my face. Swallowing the fire in my gut, I called my fiancé. "Marcus, what the hell is this?" "What do you mean, 'If he fathers a child, she must raise it, no matter who the mother is'?"

I was born with almost no sense that I deserved anything. The day I was born, I didn't think I deserved to actually be born in the delivery room, so I held onto my mother's umbilical cord for three days. It wasn't until she slipped away to the bathroom that I finally let go in relief, and dropped straight into the toilet. When I got kidnapped, I didn't think I deserved a seat in the trafficker's six-seat van. So, I wrapped myself around his leg and refused to get in. Then a sanitation worker rolled by pushing a garbage cart, and my eyes lit right up. I jumped on without a second thought. After that, the trafficker sold me eight separate times. Every single time, I handed the money right back. "No, you don't need to pay for me. Free is fine. I'd feel bad taking your money." Eventually, the trafficker gave up trying to profit off me and just dragged me along. He cursed under his breath while we lived together in extreme poverty. Then the day my real parents showed up with the police, he practically wept with gratitude as they cuffed him. Before they put him in the car, he patted my parents on the shoulder, looking like a man who'd finally set down a heavy load. "She's all yours now. Whatever's wrong with this kid's head, you'd better get her some real help." My parents just stared at him, completely lost. They didn't understand what he meant until that night, when the fake daughter came crying to them. She sobbed and said that I'd stormed home and immediately tried to steal her room and her bed. My brother marched my parents straight to my room to settle the score. They tore the place apart and finally found me curled up asleep, perfectly content, in the dog cage in the corner. The room went dead silent. My brother stood there, completely stunned. The fake daughter's face went blank too. It took my parents a long moment to find their voices again. "Bella, you said Luna stole your room and your bed?"

A young woman showed up at my door, saying she wanted to become my wife to repay me for saving her life. She drove my younger sister out of the house and wanted to transfer the family property to her parasitic parents in my name! I immediately reported her. How could someone be so bold as to commit robbery right at my home in a society governed by law?

Thanks to my addiction to the stories regarding true and fake heiresses, I'm afflicted with strong paranoia that everyone is out there to get me. For some reason, I keep thinking that I'm a fake heiress who will eventually get kicked out of my home. In order to avoid getting set up, I stay on my guard every day. Not only do I hire some people to act as the actual heiresses and visit my home from time to time, but I also have them put on performances with me while clutching paternity test reports and heirloom pendants as props. On the day I'm done rehearsing all of the webnovel tropes, a pure and innocent young woman comes knocking on the door. Interestingly enough, she has live comments surrounding her. As she shows the pendant and a paternity test report, she starts crying sadly. "Mom, Dad, I'm your actual daughter!" The live comments begin spamming relentlessly. "I'm tired of looking at pure and innocent female leads! A manipulative true heiress, on the other hand, is a breath of fresh air! Not only does she intend to regain everything that belongs to her, but she also vows to teach the fake heiress a lesson she will never forget!" "Just look at how amazing her acting and her expression are! Her parents will definitely fall for her excuse, hook, line, and sinker!" Amid the live comments' cheering, my parents just nod thoughtfully. "The actress who's playing this role today is quite talented."

The Gray family was one of the most affluent families in Imperia's elite circles. They were also the sort of family that placed great importance on family hierarchy regardless of age. Perhaps I was being biased because my father somehow had me at the ripe old age of 80. As a result, I became one of the highest-ranking members in the Gray family ever since I was born, despite my very young age. During my full-month celebration, a 60-year-old real estate tycoon cooed at me, waving a deed, "Aw, little great-aunt. Don't cry, and I'll give you three estates." A 50-year-old medical expert quickly slid on surgical gloves. "Stay away from our great-aunt! Don't suffocate the baby!" My entire family spoiled me rotten. And so, I still acted like a spoiled princess even though I was already 20 years old. One day, I was hit with a sudden whimsy of following the trend by going on blind dates… only to run into a massive mama's boy. I looked at the crabs and quietly asked, "Can you crack them for me?" He slammed the plate and barked, "You don't get to act spoiled here! My mother told me I should find a wife who can work! If you can't even crack crabs, then you can't possibly cook or clean for us!" The guy had speakerphone on, allowing his mother to chime in, "If she wants to latch on to our family, she needs to learn how to serve us!" My eyes turned teary as I opened up my family's group chat and sent a voice message, my voice sobbing. The entire Gray family heard me cry. "Some uggo wants me to marry him just to serve his family!"

Everyone said Finley Floyd was a total family man. His dad had been dead for twenty years, and he still found him a wife. Then he started calling me—someone two years younger than him—"Mommy." Yeah. My hand slipped. I accidentally assigned the affection points to the wrong role. And somehow, Finley really believed I was his mother. When I told him—again—that I wasn't his mom, he snapped. He yanked me into his arms and buried his face against me. "You are Mommy!"

On my first day at the villa, the production team hands me a mission card. I read it. "Welcome to 'Where's the Straight Guy?', a reality show where 12 male contestants will be living together for one month. Only one of them is straight, while the others are gay. Every week, two people will be voted out. If the hidden straight guy makes it to the end, he'll win ten million dollars." I'm at a loss for words for a few seconds after I finish reading. Then, I look up at the director. "Your team does know what the words 'male contestant' mean, right?" The director looks me over—my short hair, black hoodie, chest hidden under a sports bra, and my five-foot-nine height—then checks the application form. He rattles off, "Alex Callahan, male. A 26-year-old freelancer." I'm rendered speechless again. Lovely. I see the problem now.

I was the son of the wealthiest man in Capital City, but I had never enjoyed the flattery and fake smiles that came with that title. All I had ever wanted was a normal life. Now that I was pushing twenty-eight and still single, my mom finally lost her patience. She gave me an ultimatum: go on a blind date or she’d disown me. On my way to the date, I passed by a luxury boutique and spotted a watch that immediately caught my eye. I was just about to pay for it when, out of nowhere, a man barged in from behind and slapped a black card down on the counter. “I’ll take this watch. Wrap it up for me,” he said. I stayed calm and said politely, “Sir, I saw this watch first.” However, he just scoffed and snapped back, full of arrogance, “A broke nobody like you can look but not afford it. Get lost. I’m the assistant to Ms. Jackson, the CEO of Jackson Group. In this city, if I want something, no one will fight me for it.” Ms. Jackson? Isn’t that the exact woman I was supposed to be meeting for the blind date? Without another word, I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. “Selena,” I said calmly, “do you know your assistant is out here throwing your name around to bully people?”

On the day I reunite with my ex-boyfriend, Zachary Carter, I'm in my electrician's uniform, arguing with a client. "I'm not leaving until you pay me, you pervert! You asked for an attractive woman to come over to your house, and now you're refusing to pay? Let's see what will happen when your wife gets home!" I yell. The door slams shut with a loud bang, and several bills are thrown onto the floor. As I crouch down to pick up the money, Zachary stands before me holding the keys to his Porsche. "You'd rather scam people and risk getting beaten to death than come back to me to ask for help?" he asked. Behind me, the client is still screaming at me. "You're crazy! I paid for an attractive woman to come over—not for an attractive woman to come over and fix my wiring!"

I've been back at the Levine residence for four months. The whole time I have been back, I'm like an invisible person whose existence is barely acknowledged. One day, I wake up and suddenly start seeing everyone's health bars above everyone's heads. The first thing I see when I open my eyes is a frog's face. I jump in fright and slap it across the face. Then, I hear my younger brother, Jacob Levine, roar furiously, "Ruthie, what the hell is wrong with you? I came to tell you breakfast is ready. Why did you hit me?" I stare blankly at the frog. The frog is glaring at me furiously. The health bar above its head has dropped by a chunk, and it looks like it's about to leap up and hit me. I rub my eyes. When I open them again, it's still the same frog face. Its mouth opens and closes as it curses at me in my brother's voice. I stare at him for three seconds before saying, "Uh… There was a mosquito on your face." The frog's face turns even greener with rage as it rages, "You kill a mosquito by giving people a slap to their faces?" I don't answer. Over his shoulder, I see Lorraine Neal standing in the doorway. She has a hideous, demonic face and protruding fangs. The health bar above her head is even shorter. My "kind and adorable" adopted sister, Thalia Levine, is peeking out from behind Lorraine. Live snakes are coiling around her neck. They're sticking their tongues out at me and hissing. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and open them again. Everything is still there. I sit on the bed, clutching the blanket, with only one thought running through my mind. I'm screwed… I think I've gone insane.

The last light had just turned off when Hank Liston queued up for his fifth ranked match. He turned on the volume, making sure the game music rocked the entire room. "Jungler!!! What are you doing, sleeping?! We need to jump this guy, you loser!" On the lower bed under me, Ben Singer, who had been holding back for a long while, rasped, "Can't you put your headphones on? I have an interview tomorrow." Hank simply snorted. "Interview? You can sleep the whole day, and you still won't make it in with that rubbish resume of yours. Don't try to blame your failures on me." Ben flushed beet red but didn't argue. Zac Kimmich, our other roommate, had his pillow covering his ears while he gripped the bed post so hard that it was creaking. Hank, however, kept ranting, "We're all in the same room! It's called mutual understanding—get it? I was there with you guys in class, but I can't spend time playing at night? Also, I'm not complaining even though I'm not sleeping, but you guys are sleeping and complaining?!" Suddenly, he turned to me as well. "And you, Carl. Don't try to play dead. You got a lot of money from that scholarship, didn't you? If you're that good, why don't you donate your sleep hours too?" [Roommate disturbance detected. Casting Polymorph. Progress: 1%] Well, since Hank couldn't behave like a proper human being, why not turn him into something else?

Everyone who has ever met me says no man could possibly resist me. It is because I am a natural seductress. My hourglass figure is too sensual to even hide. But my fiancé, Enzo Vitale, the Don of the Vitale family, is the exception. He dislikes my full lips and my curving hips. Not only that, he thinks my ample chest and narrow waist lack dignity and elegance. He says everything about me screams promiscuity, and that I am like a flirtatious prostitute, making me unfit to be his wife. So, he brings in the strictest etiquette mentore from Cicaro to teach me proper manners. I study diligently for an entire year, but I still fail to become the perfect wife he wants. When he once again complains that I am too seductive and improper, even going so far as to threaten to break off our engagement, I grow tired of it all. I say, "Then let's cancel our engagement."

Derek Lewis killed me six times for Claire White. Each time, I waited for him to change his mind, but every time, he drove the knife straight into my chest. “Sherry, Claire was born with a serious heart condition. You’re the only compatible donor who can save her. I swear—you’re the only woman I’ll ever marry.” But before the first week after my death had even passed, he married Claire. My former mansion became their new home, and my sports cars were used as their wedding cars. Even the Lewis family’s billion-dollar fortune became jointly owned between them. Standing in line to be reborn again, I finally realized that I didn’t want the scumbag anymore, but the Lewis family’s wealth had always included my share. So, I was reborn, choosing to become their child. On the day of the delivery, Derek publicly announced that Lewis Group would one day belong solely to this child. Inside the delivery room, I was born crying. Claire took one look at me, and her scream tore through the room. “Derek, why does our baby look like Sherry?”

In my past life, my sister, Kyra Wood, and I got married at the same time. My husband, Callum Gray, was a navy captain, while hers was a farm director. Both of our husbands shared the same childhood friend—Eliana Sullivan. Kyra and I had the same blood type as Eliana. After she got into an accident, we both donated blood to her. When she woke up, she unexpectedly started being able to hear the thoughts of Kyra and me. Callum and I got into an argument, and I wanted him to apologize. However, Eliana told him that I'd never forgive him, even if I died. On Kyra's wedding anniversary, she decided to ask her husband, Anthony Stone, for a bicycle. However, Eliana told Anthony that Kyra wanted a sports car. Callum thought my personality was too fiery and decided to divorce me. Anthony thought Kyra was too much of a spendthrift and divorced her as well. My sister and I were abandoned and lived in loneliness for the rest of our lives—until we died. When I open my eyes again, I realize that Kyra and I have been reborn. This time, Callum and Anthony can hear our thoughts too.

My ex-colleague, Brenda Wilson, finds out from an unknown source that I have taken in an adopted son. Because of that, she insists on matchmaking my son with her niece. "My niece has graduated from a proper college, you know! You don't have to prepare any fancy wedding gifts… Just 800 thousand dollars will do! On top of that, you can put her name on the deed of that fancy deluxe apartment in the city center. "From the way I see it, there's no need to choose the perfect date anymore. They should get their marriage registered tomorrow and do their best to give birth to a cute baby boy!" My adopted son has a volatile temper, so there's no way he'll go on a blind date with some random woman. I refuse Brenda's offer on the spot with a cold expression. Feeling furious and embarrassed, Brenda yells at me for being a stingy old lady. Then, she storms out of my place angrily. Three months later, Brenda shows up with her pregnant niece outside my residential area. There, they start a livestream and start crying their woes to the Internet. "Everyone, Emily Parker's adopted son tricked my poor niece, Ashley Collins, into sleeping with him! Yet now, he refuses to claim the unborn baby as his! "Oh, Ashley keeps crying every day! Can Emily even afford to take responsibility for my darling Ashley if she and her unborn baby end up dying because of that bastard? "If I gain 100 thousand likes by the end of today, I'll definitely commit suicide right on that Emily hag's doorstep!" As I look at the comments that demand justice in Brenda's livestream, I almost laugh out loud. My adopted son is actually a male monkey which has retired from the local zoo. On top of that, he's already neutered. So, what on earth is Ashley pregnant with? A magical baby monkey?