Humor Books Novels & Stories

Damn, Freckles. The first book I pulled out was called “Images You Should Not Masturbate To”. I snorted, flipping through a couple of pages and shaking my head. That sarcastic streak of hers ran deep. I grabbed another, the title catching my eye: “How to Traumatize Your Children: 7 Proven Methods to Help You Screw Up Your Kids Deliberately and with Skill.” I let out a short laugh, one that came from somewhere I’d almost forgotten existed. Then there were the others—Fancy Coffins to Make Yourself, Do-It-Yourself Coffins for Pets and People, and, for good measure, How to Raise Your IQ by Eating Gifted Children. I shook my head, glancing back at her still sleeping form.

’ Although he was doing his best, he could not quite hide the minute spasm at the corner of his mouth. Well, that was a relief. If not actually kicking, his sense of humour was at least alive and twitching. On the other hand, if he’d been behaving like what she and Kate called a BHP - for boring, humourless prat - she would begin to go off him, which might be no bad thing. A man could be rolling in dosh and dishy as you like, kind to old ladies and even a ten on the Richter Scale kisser, but without a sense of humour he was about as much use to Claudia as a 32A bra.

I wished her luck with divining and then unwrapping that lady's mind. "I hold dear to my heart anyone's hunger to learn, honesty when it hurts and love no matter what the cost, so I find myself alone most of the time," Pamela grinned. "Above even those, I adore humor in the face of ridicule, condemnation and adversity. You can dodge bullets and parry knives. Humor always strikes home," she finished. "It is the perfect weapon." "Liar," I smiled. "You like high performance automobiles too." Did she? I didn't know.

Almost. Just that I do not laugh. Humor is not something I recognize even if it smacks me right in the face. I learnt early that I do not have a good sense of humor, as while I don’t have time for jokes, I used to laugh at the oddest hours, mostly when there is something as a serious as death on the line. That was weird. I know, and didn’t need anyone to tell me. So I stopped laughing all together. “It’s a ten minutes’ walk.”

I glared at him, and he noticed it. “What?” he asked innocently but a smirk is very evident on his lips. “What’s funny?” I asked really mad. He raised a brow; amusement is in his eyes. “I am reading a funny book,” he said. My eyes went down to his book, and it was really scientific so why the hell a funny topic would be there? He’s annoying. I just rolled my eyes and walked out to find a fine book that I can read. I stopped in the history section and stared at the books and without noticing I am now smiling.

“I told you.” Desolately, she went to the bookshelf. It held only faded fashion magazines, years out of date, and a few slender volumes on etiquette and charm. She picked up the book on top, a splashy pop-culture book, and read the title out loud in dismay. “How to Get Your Man?” “That’s never been your problem.” There was a distinct edge to his voice. Her heart was breaking, and he was making jokes? She made a huffing sound and chucked the book in his general direction. He caught it mid-air.

The room went dead quiet when I said I would take the prize, but that quiet did not last. A second later, laughter thundered through the air. Lily Smith was the loudest, doubling over with tears streaming from her eyes. "How else could she be the top seller?" she cackled. "A woman like her has to have skin as thick as a rhino." I ignored her snide comments and kept my cool. "Just to be clear," I said, "since the company so generously 'rewarded' me with bathroom duty, that's all I'll be doing for the next three days. Everything else is off my plate."

I open the box, and pull out the first book, and I frown even harder because it is titled - Your Dad Will Do, by a Katee Robert. Feeling realy confused, I pull out the second - Priest, by a Sierra Simone, these books are giving me a certain vibe. I pull out another, laughing at the incredulous title - Does It Hurt, by an H.D Carlton, feeling really curious, I open a random page, and frown as I try to make sense of the scene. I gasp as I begin to make sense of it, my mouth falls open at the full realization of what it actually is, the book falls out of my hand with a resounding thud.

One of the senior executives, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, added, “Maybe we should get Jerry to do all our presentations. At least then we’d be laughing through the pain.” Jerry leaned forward, adopting a more serious tone but still with a twinkle in his eye. “In all seriousness, folks, humor might not solve our problems, but it can definitely help us think more clearly. When you’re not bogged down by stress, you can see solutions you might have missed before.” The atmosphere in the room shifted noticeably. What had been a dire and despondent meeting was now infused with a lighter, more hopeful energy. People were exchanging ideas more freely, the initial doom and gloom replaced b

I poured out two cups of coffee and placed them in front of the two regulars, “I don’t smoke weed.” He laughed, “Just because I choose to smile rather than frown doesn’t mean I’m on marijuana.” He stopped me before I walked past him again, “all I’m saying is, smiling once in a while, no matter your mood, would help more than harm.” “How many self-help books have you read?” I asked shifting the attention back to him. “Now you’re calling me unstable?” His pitch was raised in fake offence and then he twisted his face in a weird crazy clown face that made me laugh.