Funny Dad Story Novels & Stories

It was more than just catching up; it was like a warm embrace, a reminder of the bond we shared. We shared stories about our quirky family traditions, like the annual pancake-eating contest on Thanksgiving, and the time Dad tried to teach me how to ride a unicycle in the park. I chuckled at the memory. "Oh, Dad, remember the unicycle disaster?" Dad laughed heartily. "How could I forget? You were determined, even if it meant a few scraped knees." Our laughter filled the airwaves as I navigated the familiar roads. Time seemed to melt away as we swapped stories, our conversation a testament to the enduring connection between a father and his daughter.

"We won't have you around much longer before you head back to school. Why don't you tell us some stories about your summer classes?" That went better than I expected. You see, my dad is a great storyteller. I'm sure when he retold some of my little anecdotes from college to his co-workers, they came out much better than when I told the same stories. Still, I was able to be entertaining and informative. It made me smile when I could coax a laugh out of them.

We arrived early that morning and by midday we were lazing around in my dad's living room. I was seated next to Damien even as my father narrated some of his humorous stories about my childhood to my husband. I was so embarrassed when he reminded me of the time I had fourteen deviled eggs that had stayed overnight and ended up going through the most uncomfortable stooling experience I've ever had. "Papa esto es tan vergonzoso!" I whined, obviously a blushing mess. (Dad, this is so embarrassing!) He laughed boisterously and it led him into fits of coughs. I rushed to his side and had him drink a glass of water but what I saw had me setting the cup aside as I stared at him in a mix of shock, w

One I swear would send the boy to the moon if Dad was not holding on to him. No stifling the snort of my laugh or give of my knees on that one. Just as soon as I think it’s going to end, and the small café becomes a bright but small place of nothing more than held breaths as the trailing fart rares right back up again. Leaving Dad to drop his head on the counter. “You’ve never told Dad about barking spiders, Wee Man?” I manage a half straight face, probably as red as Dad, when I ask the all together happier kid making squishy sounds in his full britches.

my dad laughs as he takes my favorite mug down from the cabinet to give me my share of our morning coffee. I laugh. Dad takes the coffees to the table while I make our cereal. He smiles as he watches me before chuckling again. "I have to be the luckiest parent around. I hear horror story after horror story about cranky teenage daughters but then I hang out with mine. Are you an alien," dad asks laughing as I stick my tongue out at him. "Nope. I am just awesome. Mostly because of my awesome dad," I say passing him his share of coco puffs.

Beyond that, the fucker was highly intelligent, like Mensa smart, but he never held that over us Hollywood freaks, as he's so fond of calling us. "So what did he do this time?" Sian cut in in the middle of my recitation. Dad laughed out loud because he knew the story as well as I did. "Chad I wish you wouldn't laugh at these boys' exploits it only encourages them." Mom scolded him but her lips were twitching as well. "I know, but you've got to admit, that shit was funny." "Well, what'd he do?" She looked from one to the other of us impatiently.

Even in his state, she managed to amuse him. “Anyway,” she continues sternly, “if you don’t light up, your farthole will clamp shut and your poop will push back into your tummy.” She looks around the room pensively as if checking whether we believe her or not. She thinks NOT, cause she adds, “Trues. It happened to my dad once.” She slowly shakes her head from side to side. “And it’s not a pretty sight.”

"What was Grandpa like?" My mother's expression softened. And after that... She couldn't stop talking about my father. She told him stories about how stubborn he was, how kind he was, how he laughed, how he always found a way to make people smile, how he carried me on his shoulders everywhere because I refused to walk, how he once chased a chicken halfway across the yard just because I had decided that particular chicken was my best friend. Leon laughed so hard he nearly spilt his juice. I laughed too, because I remembered that day. I remembered my father pretending to be exhausted while secretly enjoying every second of it.

I instinctively shifted to the side to hide the damp patch on my blouse before looking up at him. "What do you mean?" I asked. My eyes flicked past him toward the trampolines. The sight of Julian and Lydia playing there gave me the courage to speak up. The man chuckled. "I'm Finneas Zurick, Zachary's dad. We met at the kindergarten parent meeting," he began. "I've been thinking about you ever since then. I've been wondering when we'd finally get a chance to talk." His words grew more improper by the second. A faint blush spread across my cheeks as I studied him.

"City? Yes!" It's his lucky day that I am the kidnapper. I let him hold Six's leash as we toured around the city near Cardozen. Squandering dough to spoil him with sweets, he's also satisfying me with his stories about his father. "Dad said she enchanted that eggplant to beat up the bad guys' balls and saved the day! then he'll smile on his own and tell us 'that was how I met your mother.'" He told the story by mimicking actions, and I can't help but laugh with him.