Books That Make You Laugh Novels & Stories

I glared at him, and he noticed it. “What?” he asked innocently but a smirk is very evident on his lips. “What’s funny?” I asked really mad. He raised a brow; amusement is in his eyes. “I am reading a funny book,” he said. My eyes went down to his book, and it was really scientific so why the hell a funny topic would be there? He’s annoying. I just rolled my eyes and walked out to find a fine book that I can read. I stopped in the history section and stared at the books and without noticing I am now smiling.

"Sir Flufftail, armed with nothing but a spoon and an oversized helmet, declared loudly, 'Fear not, dear citizens! I shall conquer the pudding monster!' before promptly falling face-first into a bowl of raspberry jelly." I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed like that real, belly-aching laughter that made my eyes water. Sinking deeper into a cozy chair, the book still clutched in my hands, a smile stretched across my face until eventually, without realizing it, I drifted off to sleep.

A quick laugh bursts out of him before he clamps it down hard. “You still haven’t answered.” “It’s when people buy banned books.” His mouth twitches violently as he fights laughter. But it’s his eyes that really give him away.

Only two seem to be nonfiction and self help books, yet when i check what content they will be self helping me with i feel surprise running through me. "The delicate art of seduction and manipulation." I fling that one to a corner of the room and pick up the other. "How to make men beg for a chance to fuck you." I fling that one even harder and it joins its partner on the floor near my wardrobe. There are four remaining. Four novels which I have two days to myself to devour. The smile that works its way up my face is radiant. I'm going to have such a good time.

The day before the high school reunion, the queen bee who'd bullied me for three years suddenly posted a video in the group chat. In the video, my 220-pound high school self was locked inside a bathroom, with a piece of paper stuck to the back of my uniform that read: [No Food for Pigs] The group chat instantly erupted. [Holy shit, she's coming to the reunion?] [Do you think the hotel chairs can hold her?] [After all these years, she can't possibly still be so fat she won't even fit through the door, right?] Naomi White, the queen bee who'd led the bullying back then, tagged me. [Old friend, everyone wants to see you. You have to come to the reunion this time.] Soon, someone started

“Why would I change when you’ll never stop trying to earn a joke from every situation?” “Isn’t life more fun with jokes? Something to laugh about once in a while. You know, it makes the world beautiful and fun when it’s dark. Studies even say laughter heals faster than herbs do. Lowers pain, strengthens the heart, clears the head. Makes the blood flow freer. In short — that’s why I’m looking younger and living longer. Which of those old people in the pack is as old as me, uh? None. I’m the oldest.”

There could be a slip up, I might just mistakenly say something I'd rather not say. One more reason why it was a kind of safe space with Kunle and Sophia. We talk about everything and yet, nothing. "Well, All books, all genres except sad fictions. I don't understand why books would have sad endings. Books like All the bright colors, The fault in our stars, We were liars and co. I hate reading those kind of books. I prefer books like Eleanor and Park, Holding up the Universe, A very large expanse of sea. Generally, light novels that'd just make me smile. A sun is also a star, books with breathtaking ending that'd make you feel things."

Luca drawls, his voice just loud enough for Elijah to hear, “what do you call a werewolf that’s also a librarian?” I glance at him, intrigued but suspicious. “I don’t know. What?” “A fur-midable opponent for anyone who returns their books late.” It’s so cheesy that I can’t help but burst out laughing. Luca grins wider, clearly satisfied with himself. I cover my mouth, trying to stifle the laugh, but it’s too late. I’m doubled over, shaking with amusement, the ridiculous joke breaking through all the tension that had been swirling around me. And that’s all it takes.

"Not food, baby." That afternoon, I made silly faces at him—anything to get him to smile. Then I blew a raspberry on his belly. And he laughed. Not a smile. An actual laugh—bright and delighted and utterly perfect. "Nyx! He's laughing!" "Two months old?" She appeared, wonder in her voice. "Most babies don't laugh until three or four months." I couldn't stop. I blew raspberry after raspberry just to hear that sound. Over the next week, I discovered all the things that made him laugh. Raspberries. Tickling. Exaggerated faces. Singing off-key.

His gaze returned to me, disappointment clear and heavy. “I’ll make her apologize.” I lay sprawled on the cold deck, my body barely responding to my own will. Small stones scraped against my skin, one skidding dangerously close to my eye. Around us, people moved quickly—around her instead. “It’s okay, don’t cry.” “We all know you didn’t mean anything by it.” “She’s clearly overreacting.” “Adrian, seriously, how did you even put up with this?” Someone let out an awkward laugh. “She really knows how to turn nothing into a spectacle.”