Food Jokes

Dante Matino Cruz is a delivery rider, sweating day and night just to keep food on the table and medicine for his ailing mother. Life is hard, but his pride is harder—no shortcuts, no handouts, no selling himself for money. Celestine Isla Navarro is a CEO who thrives in a world where hesitation means weakness. She’s used to buying what she wants and bending people to her will. But the day she crosses paths with Dante—sun-bronzed, stubborn, and infuriatingly unyielding—something inside her shifts. Her first proposition is reckless: a single night, no strings attached. Dante’s answer? Not for sale. But fate doesn’t end with one rejection. Celestine offers him something else: a job. A dangerous but well-paid position as her personal bodyguard. The money could save his mother, even secure work for his childhood friend, Liza. It’s everything he’s been breaking his back for—served on a silver platter. Now Dante faces a brutal choice: swallow his pride to protect his family, or stand firm against a woman who never takes “no” for an answer. What begins as a battle of wills turns into a dangerous, slow-burning game of temptation. Pride versus desire. Fire against fire. And in this game, someone will surrender. The question is—who will break first?

On our Christmas break road trip, my cousin Felix Lloyd spotted some high-powered speakers at a highway rest stop. He had to have them—said he wanted to "blast it." "It's Christmas. We finally get to see everyone! We need some vibe!" My wife, Lana Ramsey, smiled and helped him pay. "Young people have energy. They know how to enjoy life." I yanked the power cord out. "Those aren't for regular cars. This is an EV. Overload it, and the whole system fries. Then what—just stuck in the middle of nowhere?" Lana's parents, Vincent and Donelia, booed me, calling me a buzzkill. Felix cranked the volume all the way up. Lana glared at me. "Say one more word and get out. I'll drive." Later, the speakers fried the battery system. We were stranded in total darkness on a rough mountain road. They finished the last of the food, then shoved me out to "go find help." I slipped, rolled down the slope, and died. When I opened my eyes, I was back—right when Felix jammed the speaker plug into the charging port. I grabbed a few more subwoofers and handed them over. "One isn't enough. Add more. That's how you really crank it."

The end of the world was upon us, but there weren't enough spots for evacuation. The roars of the zombies echoed in my ears as my fiancé, Oliver, gritted his teeth and pulled me onto the rescue vehicle—securing the last available seat. I arrived safely at the survivor base. Lina, his first love, did not. The zombies tore her apart. Oliver still went through with our marriage, but I never expected that he had only done so to make me suffer. In his eyes, I was the one who had killed Lina. If she had to endure such agony, then I should, too. For five years, he hated me. My life was worse than that of a stray dog scavenging for food on the street. On the day my divorce was finalized, he kidnapped me, dragged me into the wilderness, and wrapped his fingers around my throat. Then, he threw us both into the swarm of the undead. When I opened my eyes again, I was somehow reborn on the day the apocalypse began. The rescue team was shouting impatiently, "One more! We have room for one more—hurry!" I turned to Oliver, watching his hesitation. Then, with a quiet smile, I took a step back and let someone else have the last seat.

Six years ago, a corporate acquisition deal I handled went up in flames, and 50 billion dollars vanished into thin air. Bankrupt investors spray red paint all over my front door for a year straight. Dad died from a stroke, and Mom lost her mind and disappeared. I ended up doing six years in prison for embezzlement. After I got out, I changed my name and started delivering food in downtown, running myself ragged for a few bucks per delivery. But then my ex-wife, Shirley Pearce, showed up, and the entire delivery station ground to a halt. She had become a financial powerhouse, a regular on the covers of business magazines. Reporters blocked my delivery scooter, shoving microphones in my face. "Mr. Marcus Quinn, Ms. Pearce has been single for six years, paid off all your debts, and she's been waiting for you to come home!" I stared at that perfectly made-up woman with her adoring eyes and felt nothing but disgust. That so-called "devoted" ex-wife of mine? Six years ago, she had forged company seals to help her boy toy short the stock market. Then, when everything fell apart, she threw me under the bus to save herself.

As I walk towards the man waiting for me at the alter, I had tears in my eyes. This was'nt the usual kind of tears of joy, it was a tears that comes with pains. Ever since my dream of becoming a plastic surgeon got crashed due to poor financies, I took up another dream to become a popular chef and get married to the man of my dreams, but here I was getting married to a man I know nothing about, he's not just an ordinary man, but a ruthless billionaire and a CEO to one of the biggest food companies in America. Not like I was being forced to get married to him, I willing accepted his proposal. Having a long time boyfriend who broke my heart to the deepest and also a younger sister who needs immediate surgery, I had no choice but to accept his proposal inorder to save my younger sister's life. I looked at my mom and sister and in their faces lies a lot of happiness. They'd think I'm getting married to the man I love, not knowing I'm getting married to my worst nightmare. Will I ever find happiness while living with him, that I couldn't tell, but I'm ready to dance to the beating of the music if is the only way I can be able to save my sister, who means so much to me....

WARNING: R-18 l MATURE CONTENT l SPG l VERY SEXUAL l READ RESPONSIBLY After sharing a hot steamy night, she left him the last money she had in her pocket. A one thousand peso bill as a 'payment for his service'. One week later, the agency hired her and she and started working as a personal chef and housemaid to a man whose identity was unknown to everyone. She only knew him as a CEO whom he thought an old man with a fat belly and a bald head. Working for the old man without seeing him for almost a month was peaceful and pleasant. Cleaning the house, cooking the food and leaving him a note to cheer him up everyday was now her favorite routine. She enjoys serving him. She loves the peace and silence her work is giving. Everything is calm and perfect, not until the day, a young, drop dead gorgeous bachelor with a piercing blue eyes, who happened to be a single dad showed up with his five year old daughter. Who would have thought that the old man, she thought she was working for, is the same man he ridiculed and measured the 'service' lousy and dissatisfied, turned out to be her boss? Could she still run away from him? or Will she let herself be trapped in the midnight again?

The day before Henry Baker and I are supposed to marry, my mother sedates me. She makes my twin sister marry Henry instead. A few years later, the company Henry established turns into a thriving empire. My sister, Diana Halliwell, flourishes with him. While I was at the lowest point in my life, my childhood friend, Jorge Ward, proposed. It's only after marriage that I realize he's worthless. Diana and Henry attend various parties. They enjoy delicious food and wear expensive clothes. Meanwhile, I end up exhausted after having to cook and clean for my family. One night, Mom speaks softly to Jorge when she thinks I've fallen asleep. "I was worried she would find out the truth about what happened back then, but it seems she's too dumb to notice anything." Jorge laughs. "You're a genius, Erica. You laced Laura's water with sleeping pills so Diana could marry Henry on her behalf. I'm glad to see how happy Diana is now." Mom sighs. "I just feel bad for you. You've always liked Diana, yet you're forced to live with a wash-out like Laura…"

The student I once sponsored, Lillian Pegg, jacked my identity, slapped on the "rich heiress" title, and started tossing out houses and cars like she was some fairy godmother for "underprivileged" students. Her big mission? Making sure everyone had a roof over their head. My in-laws? Wrapped around her finger. They swore up and down she'd saved their lives. Even Liam—my son with my late husband—acted like she was the only mom he'd ever had. Meanwhile, I was puking blood from ulcers, and everyone treated it like a bad improv act. Liam bought every word out of her mouth. Thought she and my husband were some kind of twin-flame couple and labeled me the evil baby snatcher. Fast-forward: I got locked in a bedroom and left to bleed out. Then I woke up. It was the exact day Lillian was playing Santa Claus. The crowd around her practically worshipped her. "You're the kindest boss in the world! You care about our food, clothes, housing, everything. We'll support you and your company forever!" Yeah, not on my watch. I shut down all her privileges right then and there. This time? Lillian and that backstabbing son of mine were gonna eat regret for the rest of their lives.

My father-in-law tossed a credit card across the table and looked down at me, demanding that I divorce his daughter. In my past life, I had refused with everything I had. But this time, I picked up the pen and signed the divorce papers without a second thought. Because right then, I remembered what had happened last time. In that life, I found my wife after she had lost her memory. To support her, I worked myself to the bone, delivering 200 food orders a day. But when her memories came back, she realized she was actually the daughter of the wealthy Harretts. She saw our marriage as a stain on her perfect life. To get rid of me, she pretended to have amnesia again. She said, "Since you saved me once, I'll give you some money. But after this, don't ever show up in front of me again." I refused. I stayed by her side, enduring her insults and beatings. But in the end, she ordered our son to set the fire that killed me, just so she could marry her first love. Now that I had been given another chance, I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

After Celine Anderson let her newly-promoted assistant take credit for my billion-dollar project for the ninth time, I handed in my resignation letter. I also refused to show up in the same place as her. Whenever she was interviewed by talk shows as a public figure, I would switch off all the screens in the building. I also got the security guard to stop her from entering even if she brought me a cup of coffee in the middle of a tornado. To see me, she purposely rescheduled three virtual meetings with foreign companies. So, I immediately bought air tickets to leave the country. I blocked her everywhere and formatted the hard disk that contained all of our memories from the past decade. When I was twenty, I studied with her in the university library. When I was twenty-five, I ate the cheapest bread with her when she first started her company. When I was thirty, I finally knew how to let go of things that no longer serve me. On the ninth time I was accused of sleeping my way up, I came across a photo of her and her assistant kissing. Meanwhile, I was sitting at our dining table with food that had turned cold. It turned out that our decade-long relationship had been a joke. However, it was fine. It was not too late to come to my senses.