Amusing Anecdotes Novels & Stories

“I am not surprised you would do that. You’ve always had a gift for dodging blame.” I threw a pillow that was in reach at her lightly. “Stop psychoanalyzing me. You promised.” She caught the pillow, laughing. “Right, right. No analysis. Tonight we’re just two women gossiping about our chaotic animals.” We laughed together. Then, we drifted from pets to random things—Boston’s awful winter slush, the museum exhibits everyone pretends to like but secretly hate and the smell of roasted chestnuts on Commonwealth Avenue in December. She told a story about spilling coffee on a famous visiting lecturer. I told her about June’s obsession with fortune cookies and how we’d once tried to write our own f

In the end, we were all rolling about the floor laughing as they shared ridiculous sexcapade stories. “That’s no fun,” Seth says, goading Levi. Thankfully, the professor walks in just then and we all have to pay attention. ‘Saved by the bell,’ Zanthe snickers at me.

“I remember! He made you all clean the stables for a month!” The door opened, and Ansre walked in. He stopped as he entered inside and raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was staring at me, at my laughing face. I wiped a tear from my eye and noded at him. “Andre. Come in. We are just remembering the Great Mud Ditch disaster of our youth.” Andre walked over, with a small hesitant smile on his face. “Let me in on the joke. I need a good story.” I recounted it again, and Andre laughed too, it sounded genuine. Good. Normal.

he continued, his voice now a conspiratorial whisper, "there's a legend that says if you find a four-leaf clover, you'll have good luck forever? I've spent countless hours searching for one, but they're rarer than you'd think!" Sebastian's tales of randomness flowed effortlessly, each anecdote a stepping stone away from the precipice of my anxieties. He regaled me with stories of peculiar cloud shapes that looked like mythical creatures, of quirky animal behaviors he'd observed during his childhood, and of the sheer absurdity of finding faces in everyday objects. It was as though he were constructing a whimsical tapestry of the mundane, weaving it into an enchanting distraction from the inex

Then someone in the crowd sneered, their voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, that must be Sophia's sugar daddy. Showed up to defend her. She's not picky, is she. She'll take a guy in his fifties." The crowd erupted. Some covered their mouths, laughing. Others joined in openly. "Yeah, I heard she doesn't care about age. Maybe this old man's a regular too." The dean's expression tightened. He turned sharply toward the crowd. "All of you–shut your mouths!" He glanced at my injuries, his voice urgent.

"At least it makes for a funny story now." She told them more. About the time she accidentally delivered someone's lunch order to the wrong building and ended up eating it herself because she could not find the right address. About the customer who tipped her with a singing bass mounted on a plaque because he had no cash. About the day she rode her bike through a parade route without realizing it and ended up being photographed by tourists who thought she was part of the show. The room filled with laughter. Real, genuine laughter. The kind that made your stomach hurt and your face ache.

Most of them were old, had a pregnant belly and were so short. The other sisters quickly scattered in the courtyard when they noticed him but stayed where I was staring at this wonderful specimen. God’s wonderful creation. I wasn't afraid of him. Why would I? When he told me stories from the outside world. About lights that never flicker off, cars that roar like lions, and women who wear revealing clothes to show off their breasts and ass. He always laughs at my curiosity when I ask him questions. “What does the beach smell like? “Do people really kiss on the street? “Do women outside have my body shape?”

One man told exaggerated travel stories about getting lost in foreign cities. A woman beside Clara shared hilarious tales about her family’s chaotic road trips. Within minutes Clara was laughing harder than she had in weeks. At one point Evan told a joke about Alex accidentally reorganizing an entire library by color instead of author. Clara nearly choked on her drink laughing. “That actually sounds like something he’d do!” The entire table joined in the laughter. Dinner was wonderful. Warm bread. Rich pasta dishes. Delicate desserts served with steaming cups of coffee. But the best part wasn’t the food.

“Well, sister, you have been missing out. Do you know how many nights these little beauties have saved me?” She launched into wild unfiltered stories about her dates and about one time in a supply closet during a summit and how she had so much fun with it. It was so hilarious. I couldn’t help it. I started laughing, “You’re terrible.” “I’m experienced,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.” She kept going on and on telling me about the time she brought one to a diplomatic dinner “for emergencies” and how she’d had to excuse herself mid-course and used it. I was laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes.

It flowed with the same surprising ease it had through text messages. Books. Travel. Embarrassing childhood stories. Favourite films. The conversation drifted effortlessly from one subject to another without either of them needing to force it. At one point Amelia laughed so hard at one of Jake's stories about accidentally presenting architectural drawings upside down during an important meeting that coffee almost came out of her nose. "I'm so sorry," she spluttered. Jake grinned. "There you go again." "What?" "Apologising." She blinked. "I did, didn't I?"