Romans & histoires Funny Rhymes

🎶🎼 Fat Funny Friend By Maddie Zahm I break the ice… so they don’t see my size… and I have to be nice… or I be next punchline… I’m just the best friend in a Hollywood movie… who only exists to continue the story… the girl gets the guy while I’m standing off screen… so I wait for my cue to be comic relief… Can’t be too loud, can’t be too busy… if I don’t answer now how they still gonna need me… can’t be too proud, can’t be think pretty… do there keep me around so their flaws just seem silly? Life of a funny fat friend… life of a funny fat friend…

Then the final riddle appeared, more intricate than the others: **"I can be cracked, I can be made, I can be told, and I can be played. What am I?" Cayla’s breath caught. This one was different—so many possibilities. She turned to her group, searching their faces for any sign of inspiration. The emperor’s brows furrowed, and the warriors bit their lips in frustration, clearly struggling. The general, however, looked deep in thought, his eyes narrowing. “I think… I think it’s a **joke**,” the general said slowly. “A joke can be cracked, made, told, and played. It fits.”

he's speaking in that ridiculously goofy, high-pitched tone. I couldn't help but laugh a bit. It was absolutely silly, certainly, but you can get that sort of silly that's just funny when you're extremely bored, you know? Tray picked up another can and jumped into the act, drawing a wailing face beside Paul's stick man. The title of the article above read, "Crybaby." Man, Rick, who's normally pretty relaxed, just went and spray-painted a giant middle finger in the middle of everything. The guys just burst into laughter again, bumping into one another like they couldn't deal with how funny this was.

“Oh man, burning poop!” “No, shit!” “Yes shit, dog shit.” “This is gonna be funny as hell.” “All we gotta do is get a stick, put dog poop in the bag. We close up the bag and pour a little lighter fluid on it, and light it. Then we ring the doorbell and run like hell.”

But one of these things is not like the others Like a rainbow with all of the colors Baby doll, when it comes to a lover I promise that you'll never find another like Me-e-e, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh I'm the only one of me Baby, that's the fun of me Eeh-eeh-eeh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh You're the only one of you Baby, that's the fun of you And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me-e-e

“When you can, sing me Daddy’s favorite song.” Nearly three minutes later, Kiyah began singing. “O-old MacDonald…had a…garage.” She paused to suck up snot. “E-I-E-I-O. And what was in that garage?” “And in that garage…he had…a car.” “E-I-E-I-O. With a what?” “With a vroom vroom here, and a vroom vroom there. Here a vroom, there a vroom, everywhere a vroom vroom. Old MacDonald had a garage. E-I-E-I-O.”

He said this to me while stuttering and sweating profusely on his palm. I paused for a moment before smiling because I suddenly remembered an old joke. "What makes fowl so amusing?" Arthur arched his brow and couldn't come up with an answer. I cleared my throat and imitated how fowls make noise. "Becauseeeeee!!" I declared, making both of us laugh out loud.

I suggested, eager to steer the conversation away from the matrimonial topic. "Can we sing 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'?" Julia's eyes gleamed with a spark of hope. "Absolutely," I chuckled, launching into a slightly off-key rendition of the nursery rhyme, hoping it would lull them into a peaceful sleep, filled with dreams of a happy, whole family. "Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb..." The butchered rendition of "Mary Had a Little Lamb" died a mercifully quick death. Halfway through the first verse, the melody dissolving into something resembling a strangled cat, the twins erupted in a fit of giggles.

Suddenly, a tiny burst of colorful sparks erupted from the tip of her wand, and a small scroll materialized in her hand. "This, my friend, is the 'Rhyme-Rite' spell," she explained, unrolling the scroll. "It's foolproof, guaranteed to make anyone rhyme for a day!" I marveled at the intricate symbols and enchanting words inscribed on the scroll. "This is incredible, Sophie! So, how do we use it?" With a mischievous grin, Sophie whispered the instructions. "We just need to recite this incantation and point our wands at the person we want to rhyme. But remember, we must use our powers wisely, and only for the sake of mischief and good fun!"

I say as I throw her a wide smile. “Hey, they rhyme.” We burst out laughing. An hour later, we're ready. “Ready?” I nod, and exhale “Let’s do this”