Dirty Orphan Jokes Novels & Stories

“That guy's breath stinks like rotten potatoes.” If I wasn't so occupied with playing detective for the man who got my best friend knocked up, then I probably would have laughed hard at the joke. But I continued my list, naming every man I could remember Ashley ever dating or briefly mentioning. With each guess, I was met with a denial, a chuckle or an amusing laughter.

That joke was spot on. "Terrific. Laugh it up. Using jokes as a means of closing off topics you don't feel the need to discuss don't work on me. What did you do?" His voice was more steady this time. "I didn't do anything, maybe it's your guilty conscience for all the terrible things you've done that makes you think this way, always imagining the shadows lurking around, you're not at peace with yourself. That's what you're looking for anyone else but yourself, I'd call you an over thinker but that's too good. I didn't do anything."

And wore it, putting my hand in the trash can, trying to find it, they getting disgusted behind me. I went through the bin. Taking care of the highest area, but getting nothing, okay! I sighed, and digged in the middle, when some wet and and dirty things were touching my gloves and hand,"What do you put in the trash cans?" I asked them, when she really felt awkward, "Just tell me it's never poop?" I asked her funnily when she laughed,"Not yet! Maybe letter when you and sir make some kids, then perhaps we will," That joke was funny for her and other, but it was never for me. I am searching to get out of this trash, and you asking to have babies?

“Are you allowed to make dead jokes about your parents?” “I know it’s rude,” he replied, grinning with zero shame. “It’s not supposed to be funny. But I get one morbid joke, don’t I? Don’t we all? Some day you’ll be making jokes about your family too.” I doubled over in laughter, the kind that shook my shoulders and made my ribs ache. Not because it was that funny, but because I needed it. Because it pulled me out of the heavy place in my mind where grief lived. Because he looked so happy saying such a thing when there was nothing to laugh about.

“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.

Skeet stared at her. "Say it again." Norah went pale. Her phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor. "Wait—let me explain... I was just joking with a friend—" "Joking?" He stepped in. "You called my fiancée washed-up. That's a joke?" "That's not what I meant—" "You said I was dumb. Said I was asking to be played. That's a joke?" Her lips shook. Nothing came out.

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Your room stinks by the way, and you had the nerve to ask Bobbie to stay in here.” Jake groaned and laughed. “Still stupid, Jacky.” “Oh, no, Jake. Jacky took over Dwayne Johnsons’ routine,” I butted in and Jake snickered. “I bet he did... he’s all body but no brains.” Jake mocked, which made Jack laugh loudly. They exchanged more indecent jokes to each other before Jack left the room. My cheeks were hurting from all the laughing from these two. I connected my phone to a Bluetooth headset while finishing my cup of hot Choco.

I can’t help it, a low, dry laugh slips out, completely out of place, and instantly I feel all eyes on me. “Something funny?” she asks. “No,” I reply quickly, “just… nothing.” Mateo doesn’t say anything, but I notice it, he’s tense, uncomfortable, just as unenthusiastic as I am, even if he hides it better, like he doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing this affects him too. “Lucas,” Mark says, “what happened to your face?” “Hockey,” I answer without hesitation, “it was a game.”

“Is that okay?” “Yeah?” Dizen wasn't so sure if that would satisfy his father or he will throw another corny joke. Whatever it is it's not on him, it's up on his father. They all looked at the old mister Lopez when they heard him cleared his throat after that he let out a big smile on his mouth. Maybe that was the sign they are waiting to see. They remain quiet soon as old Mr. Lopez started speak. “That was a joke, but let me tell you another one.”

Jim chuckles, adding his own twist to the tale, "Well, speaking of rain, I remember this one time when our family camping trip turned into a muddy adventure. We ended up making the best mud pies, and Mom was not happy about it!" Jonathan, intrigued, leans in and shares, "Rain seems to be the theme tonight. You know, back in college, there was this legendary prank involving a rain machine. Let me tell you, that story still makes me laugh." Laughter echoes through the room as we dive into one amusing story after another. The living room, once a serene space, now resonates with the joyous sound of shared narratives. Each tale unfolds like a piece of a puzzle, contributing to the colorful mosaic