Insult Humor Novels & Stories

She remarked, a winning title plastered on her face, and I can say she got the crown of savage queen this time. "How dare you insult me?" The bitch yelled in irritation. She knitted her brows and flush crept up her face, indicating she's now gone mad. But who cares? She can't beat Zaina's irony. "I never insult you. I only say what most students think of you." Zaina taunted and laughed like a crazy patient in the mental hospital. What do I expect? Once you started hitting on her, make sure you'll be able to handle her irony twice as the way you insult her.

" An insult? How is that an insult? You wanted to patronize didn't you?" " With that ridiculous price?" " It's ridiculous because you can't afford it, don't aim for something you can't afford, I clearly told you she was a no-go area," " Is this how you run your business? By insulting your clients and humiliating them?" " In what way did I humiliate you?" he feigned genuine expression, " In every way," Kesler fumed, raising his voice and glaring at Larsen, " telling me I can't afford it, calling ridiculous prices for a slave like she's some sort of treasure."

"I wouldn't do that if you didn't insult me. Do you know that because of you my day was completely ruined?" "I call our cat Fat, not you. You're weird. You thought everything I said was about you. Because you're fat, you immediately thought you were what I called Fat, You're too guilty." "What the f–hmp!" I inhale and exhale. I have to control myself. Kier would annoy me, even more, when he felt that my brain cells were getting angry. "Hey, Fat! I mean, Fatima." "All right, insult me ​​some more." I saw a rock. "Choose, I will scratch your car, or I will break your car window?!"

His accusatory tone might have been intimidating if it weren’t so absurd. Yes, I had liked him. But I had liked the memory of who he used to be—an open, cheerful, athletic boy who lit up a room with his smile. Not this person standing in front of me now: a manipulative, self-absorbed man reeking of entitlement and bitterness.

“You sound so sincere.” “Do I? I’ve been working on it for the last thirty minutes. I wasn't actually clearing my inbox, I was looking up how to tolerate a douche bag.” “It shows.” I shook my head, "Step one; insult him. Step two; call him a douche bag." He chuckled softly. “Step three; repeat steps one and two until they work." "You should find better advice."

I stiffened at the audacity. “My manners may be rough,” he said, his voice cutting low, “but so’s your attitude.” The word landed like a slap. It dripped with mockery. “Why do you insult me?” I demanded. “Did I?” His gray eyes glinted with dangerous amusement. “Funny, no one ever called you that before? Betcha this is the first time a man didn’t trip over himself to please you, too.” My face burned hot with humiliation and anger. “Your manners belong in the gutter!”

By this time, My cheeks were burning so hard it could have boiled water. “Slut. Does she think Hunter has any interest in her?” “She is so stupid. She’s just a temporary fling.” “I can’t believe she’s so dumb. Look at her enjoying all the attention from the guys.” “Disgusting slut. I can’t wait for Hunter to be done so she’s showed where she belongs” The insults continued as I turned back to my seat and ignored them. How is being humiliated attention seeking? The initiator of all these grabbed my hair and tugged my hair back. Not painfully, just firmly. As if making me aware of the threat he is.

“Indeed. You’re the most talented rock skipper here.” He chuckles and nudges me. “You know, sarcasm is considered the lowest form of wit.” “Point out someone who believes that, and I’ll show you someone who proves that common sense isn’t as common as they think. Anyone who says that phrase is someone it takes minutes or even days to realize they have been insulted through what they consider wit that’s beneath them. They are the true geniuses among us.” “Hmm…you may have a point,” he says. After a few minutes, he glares at me. “Rude.”

And someone who somehow managed to piss me off even when he wasn't trying to. I still hadn't forgotten what happened last night at his place, and how humiliating that was. I hadn't forgotten the way Salma embarrassed me, and how much my blood boiled as I stood in that room and listened to her insults. Normally, I have a very tough skin. Ordinary insults don't bother me. But when it's coming from someone who's so clearly better than me in every way, I can't help but feel the sting a little bit. When the insults are coming from way above you, then it's definitely going to hurt.

Gianna shot back without missing a beat: “Bold, coming from someone who smells like overpriced cynicism.” Lucien’s brow arched, bored and lethal. “At least it’s not desperation and hairspray.” Exhausting. And wildly entertaining. “Are you two sure you don’t just want to make out and get it over with?” I asked, sipping tea like the chaos didn’t scorch the air. The glares they gave me could have curdled milk. Sabine clapped like it was opening night at the opera. “God, I love hate chemistry.” By the end of the week, it became a betting game. Who would land the first insult? Would Lucien savage her perfume collection, or would Gianna eviscerate his tragic lack of joy? Sabine and I made charts.