Bad Pun Jokes Novels & Stories

It was still there, but lighter. “Yeah, pushy, that’s her,” he agreed. “My type? Girls who laugh at my jokes. Even the bad ones. And don’t mind if I suck at dancing.” “Your jokes? All bad, man,” I teased. I stretched my leg out and shoved his swing with my foot. It twisted to the side and he yelped. “Hey! Not all,” he shouted, trying to shove me back with his own foot. “Remember that one about Jax and the pizza? Gold.”

"Cardboard and suffering?" "Exactly." Jonathan’s eyes lit up, happy to see even a tiny smile. "And if that doesn’t work, I’ve got jokes. Why did the painter go to jail?" Lucy shook her head, still wiping tears. "Because he was framed!" A surprised giggle escaped her. "Oh no… that’s actually terrible." "I’ve got more," he warned with a playful grin. "What do you call a fake noodle?" "…What?" "An impasta!"

Yep, he's my brother all right. "Sure. Wanna hear a pizza joke?" I said with a grin. "Sure," He said. "Oh you know what, never mind. It's too cheesy," I said and suddenly he just burst out a laughter. "Ha-ha! Your joke is so bad that it made me cracking myself up! Ha-ha!" Then he kept laughing. I hope he'll ran out of breath. Kidding, I don't want this sh*t to suffocate, he's still my brother.

Now I'm confused , I thought being banned was the punishment. "Isn't me being banned the punishment?" He laughed at me and it was a mean laugh too. Not one of those ha ha funny laughs but more along the lines of evil scientist kind of chuckle. I could feel the small hairs on my arms stand up . Creepy ass dude, note to self stay away from this man.

" Ian frowned at the question. Ian (8:15 pm) : What kind stupid question are you asking? Irritating Twat (8:16 pm) : Don't know the answer? Ian (8:16 pm): No. Irritating Twat (8:17 pm) : Because it is made out of cells! Haha! Ian gaped at the message for a long time before a small laugh escaped his mouth. The joke was really lame but it was funny.

He laughed. A short, fat man —who I believe was in his late 50s came from the first door that was next to the entrance. He was wearing a white sweatpants, an oversized white T-shirt, and red sneakers. He had a huge chain on his neck, diamond earrings, and a lot of rings on his fingers. He was bald and had a huge scar that covered most part of his left cheek. He had a round belly and beard that was mostly covered in grey. “This is Smash, your new boss.”

Amy snapped at the guy who immediately did as he was told. “Getting pregnant in college is not only disgusting, it gives this ‘loser vibes’,” one of her friends, the blondie blurted, air quoting the ‘loser vibes’. “It gets nastier when the baby belongs to your stepbrother. I mean, how do you even moan for him?” Everyone laughed like we were in a standup comedy show. Cassie giggled. “I think I know. You say, ‘Ahhh, bro, pound your sister's pussy, give me that family jewel.’” She laughed as she cracked the joke, clutching her stomach as if she was running out of air from laughing excessively.

His arms tighten looking for my acceptance of his apology. "I understand. You're a man in demand. This is the part where you have to save the Internet by pressing buttons on your laptop, right?" Finn relaxes his grip a little at my joke. "Kind of, but I type fast. Some might even say I'm a speeding bullet." Even I catch his Superman reference and groan at the horribleness of it, but it's nice to hear one of his nerdy jokes again. Maybe nothing is wrong after all.

Gimme a joke like- What do you do with dead elements? You Barium! That's a good joke now! No it isn't. Shutup. Two hours of my life were wasted listening to that and when I got home and was asked the questions of my whereabouts, I had to lie to my parents, which made me feel so terrible and now here Mason was, by my locker, not looking like me, who had to suffer those two hours of torture alone with his green eyes and perfectly styled, soft - looking brown hair and- What in the world am I doing?

He made me laugh, a genuine, bubbling sound that felt good after the fear. “Your turn,” he challenged, when he finished. “Tell me a joke. Something to keep the darkness at bay.” I thought for a moment. “Okay, okay… What do you call a fake noodle?” He raised an eyebrow, a slight smile playing on his lips. “What?” “An impasta!” I delivered the punchline with a flourish, and he actually laughed, a deep, booming sound that warmed the room. “Alright, alright, that was a good one, for a rookie,” he teased. “My turn. Why did the scarecrow win an award?”