Dark Humor Jokes No Limits Orphans Novels & Stories

He begins to tell me stories of his childhood, of winter days spent by the lake and the antics of his youth. "You were quite the troublemaker." His words have somehow allowed me to think beyond my pain. He tries to tell a joke and fails miserably. Evidently, he is no comedian. “I suck, don’t I?” he asks. “Yes.” He laughs and a ghost of a smile appears on my lips. We talk about everything and nothing, his words like a lifeline, keeping the darkness at bay. He even attempts to make some silly faces to make me laugh, and it works a little.

I told him about the terrible vacation story Lucas had shared with me once, his family's disastrous week at a rain soaked coastal town when he was twelve, how he had told it with such vivid, self deprecating humor that I had laughed until my sides ached despite everything weighing on me that particular evening. I described the way he had acted out each disaster of that vacation, his father's collapsed tent, the seagull that had stolen an entire picnic lunch directly from his hands, his own dramatic, twelve year old outrage at the unfairness of it all, and Jonathan laughed properly for the first time since the funeral, a real, unguarded sound that startled us both slightly with how unfamiliar

The man who created the joke was Nate Brighton. “No wonder I’ve smelled something disgusting, there is trash here apparently,” Nate sneered, followed by the laughter of his two friends. “Hey, did you forget to tell your clerk to clean,” his blonde friend sneered . “Hmm, they cleaned up earlier, but the trash show up again,” Nate explained. “Looks like your luxury car collection is very shiny and makes a hobo seem enchanted,” his long-haired friend said. “Nate, I think you need to be generous with him. Just give a little of your money to that beggar!” Nate’s friend exclaimed and mocking Nicko.

“Yeah well, my sleeping pattern has been off-balance lately, so it's only natural that my eating habits will change too. And geez, I can't help being hungry all the time.” “I think you should cut back on the food a little. At this rate, you'll end up being the biggest person I know.” He teased, poking her belly. “You're such a dick.” “But you still love this dick.” “Are you serious right now? Tell me, does it look like I’m in the mood for any of your crap?” “Whoa, it was just a joke.” “Don't joke like that. Some jokes that are funny, right? And others that are just not ok. Guess which category yours falls into.”

“Now. The laugh. I heard you yesterday, when you thought no one was listening. It’s too high.” He stopped in front of me, tapping his own chest. “Elion’s was deeper. From here.” The gesture was intimate. Unexpected. I flinched. His jaw tightened instantly. “Try again,” he said. “I’ll tell you a joke. It’s a terrible one. Elion hated it.” He told it anyway... something painfully unfunny involving a squirrel and a priest. I forced out a weak chuckle, the sound thin and hollow. “No.” The word cracked like a whip.

Heavy with shit we weren’t saying. I cleared my throat. “Alright. That’s enough depressing hospital talk. You know what would really make my day better?” He glanced at me, brows raised. “A really dumb joke.” Andrew blinked. Then tilted his head a little, lips twitching like he was fighting a smile. “A dumb joke?” I nodded, lips curving around the cigarette still hanging from my mouth. “Come on. Hit me.” He gave me a look—half skeptical, half amused. “Fine. What do you call a sad strawberry?”

Dylan says with his usual poker face and hints of mischief in his voice. “Brother dearest, I am gonna bite you if you don’t set it aside.” Orlo flashes the fakest smile I have ever seen. “Do you think my teeth are for decoration?” Dylan showcases his upper canines. “My dear comrades, shall we go inside?” I cut in, rather in a commanding voice. Laugh all you want during joke hours but when its time to work get your arse staight into buisness. And it is neither the place nor the time for big jokes. Small ones are okay, though.

His eyes drag over me like I’m a meal he ordered, paid for, and expects to be served immediately. “We got a table,” he slurs. “We got drinks. I can make you laugh, promise. Want a joke?” He squints, trying to focus, then jabs a thumb behind him. “My boys said I’m the funniest one in the pack, swear. Especially that idiot—” he points at one of them—“he laughs at anything. Once choked on air, I swear to the gods.” My eyes flick to the VIP section where his group of overgrown toddlers sits—loud, half-drunk, whistling at me like I’m a performing animal on stage.

Leesa had to give the guy credit. He didn’t seem to let the catcalls and groans bother him. He either had the thickest skin in the world, or he thought the derision was in some twisted way an approval of his act. His jokes were new, but were equally as dumb as the last time. She wondered if he wrote the stuff himself or got it from some website—stupidjokes.com, maybe.

All he had ever wanted was to be with his mate and for centuries we had searched. We had stopped counting after a while but no luck. We had both given up on having a special someone that got us and would accept us despite our flaws… ‘We have no flaws— we are perfect, Orin,’ “I wouldn’t say perfect,” I scoffed. ‘I am perfect… if you say you aren’t and that’s on you,” he teased. I let out a soft laugh. One might think I was mad most times but I got my humor, the dark and dry humor was what had kept us alive and I got it from my best friend.