Black Humor Jokes Novels & Stories

Almost. Just that I do not laugh. Humor is not something I recognize even if it smacks me right in the face. I learnt early that I do not have a good sense of humor, as while I don’t have time for jokes, I used to laugh at the oddest hours, mostly when there is something as a serious as death on the line. That was weird. I know, and didn’t need anyone to tell me. So I stopped laughing all together. “It’s a ten minutes’ walk.”

“But, I mean, if you’re that desperate, bro, I don’t mind jerking you off. Charity work. For old times’ sake.” I stared at him. Deadpan. For a full three seconds. Then I said, voice flat as asphalt, “Even as a joke, that wasn’t funny.” He threw his head back and howled while Ellis choked on his beer, coughing and laughing at the same time, tears actually forming at the corners of his eyes. It wasn’t fun being the fucked-up sideshow. I took one last drag then crushed the joint out in the ashtray so hard the glass cracked.

He murmured, ruefully. I badly didn't want to see him sad anymore. "Jokes could help.You can tell me jokes" "Jokes"He said more to himself as if thinking of something up. "Well, I think I heard this somewhere,I don't really remember how it starts or ends but the punch line is...'Get lost,you old cargo'!" I grimaced. "So am I supposed to laugh to an half joke?" He pouted."I'm an hopeless joke teller" I couldn't stop myself from laughing not because of his half joke but because of how hopeless he looked.

I taunted, waggling my eyebrows. His eye twitched. Too easy. "It's a joke," I added before he could react towards her. No need to cause her any problems. "Oh, ha! You almost got me there! Who knew you just had a drier humor? No wonder people avoid you," the guy laughed, nudging his girl, who nervously played along. I smiled. "It's understandable. With your sense of humor, it must be hard to find the punchline." "What do you mean?" he asked, completely missing the insult.

"You have no idea–I was just joking around, but those disgusting guys went crazy asking me for your contact." The old me would have already been crying, asking her how she could do this to me, voice breaking. Not this me. My teeth clenched so hard they hurt. My whole body trembled with anger. I snatched the flyer out of her hand and slapped her across the face. Tara screamed, clutching her cheek in disbelief. "You hit me? I treat you like my best friend, and you can't even take a joke anymore?" Best friend? I let out a cold laugh.

“Jesse, my man, which is why I’m encouraging you to talk some more! It doesn’t have to be about anything life changing. If you were me I’d say crack a joke but I don’t know if you even know any jokes.” “I know jokes.” His face lit up. “Oh yes? Tell me one then.” “Can you guess what the therapist said when I told my therapist I’m scared of dying alone? “Uh, no what?” “He said, “Most people don’t die with the company,” I said, chuckling. “Get it?” Rain looked at Matt. “Matt, am I supposed to laugh at that?” “Ideally someone is supposed to laugh when they tell a joke,” Matt said with a sigh. “Jesse, what have I told you about your morbid jokes?”

She chuckled and then broke into delighted laughter. He grinned. “You get that I’m joking?” “Well, of course you’re joking. Vomity ones.” She laughed again. “Too funny.” “Most people don’t get my jokes. Say they’re inappropriate.” He finger-quoted inappropriate. “Are they idiots?” “Arguably.” She laughed again. “A woman who gets my jokes…” His pleased little grin turned into a broad smile. “Can I buy you a coffee sometime? Or a jet?” “A jet?” She laughed until her stomach ached and she had to bend over with her hands on both knees to catch her breath. “You’re killing me.”

Juke grumbled under his breath, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "I think we all know about your sense of humor Juke, it's only there when it's at the expense of others." Paul's voice carried a wry note from the back seat. "Tell us, have you ever laughed at yourself when the joke is on you, and not what you've done to someone else." "Why would I laugh at myself, that's just stupid? If something someone says upsets me, how can I find humor in that?" The genuine confusion in Juke's voice made Dale's heart twinge.

She hissed, “we need to leave immediately!” “Alright, alright.” I patted her arm. “I’ll just get the eggplants.” I turned and beamed widely at the worried girl. “Have you seen a brinjal this big and shiny?! It’s like—.” “A cock soaked in cum,” someone said. What...? My face feel deadpanned as it swivelled up to voice. An elderly man in Einstein’s age and appearance was bellowing in laughter at his own dirty joke, his round belly shaking uncontrollably.

It felt good—light, like a breath of fresh air in this park where the wind rustled the leaves around us. We sat on the bench after that, side by side, our shoulders almost touching. He started telling these silly jokes—the kind that weren’t even funny, just dry and ridiculous, like “Why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was outstanding in his field.” Corny as hell. But I laughed anyway, hard and genuine, because the real joke was how bad they were, how he delivered them with that straight face like he thought they were gold. It warmed me up inside, chasing away the chill for a bit.