Jeff Dunham Quotes Peanut Novels & Stories

I scream; my anxiety has me pacing in front of the toilet, nauseous, but for an entirely different reason now. Damon remains unphased by my meltdown, with an egotistical smile on his face, "don't forget you're the one who phrased it as a "magical penis," because I never will." He roars, with laughter, bending at the waist as he tries to calm the laughter shaking his body.

Then: "Maybe." His voice barely worked. Then Peanut frowned. Thinking. Really thinking. Then she walked over. Slowly. Then grabbed his hand. Then: "That's dumb." Silence. Then: "Really dumb." Then: "I don't like it." Honestly? Fair. Very fair. Reasonable actually. Then several people laughed through tears. Then Peanut continued. Then: "But if you save everybody..." Pause. Then: "...we can just be friends again." Nobody spoke. Then Peanut shrugged. Like it was obvious.

“I love peanuts.” “If you do get paid in kind,” Lor says, “instead of peanuts or brownie points, you’ll get hamburger points.” “Maybe you’ll get a lifetime supply of hamburgers,” Francine says encouragingly. “It’s all cool,” Nate says. “I’ll even throw in a free jingle a la Ava Max.” Nate clears his throat and then sings: “I’m all out of steak. But I’m not gonna cry. Countryside’ll give me what I want. ’Cause I feel way too hungry tonight.”

Clinton sat at the head of the table in his wheelchair, beaming like the sun had settled on his shoulders. “I swear, this is better than hospital food,” he said between bites. “Ten times better.” Jake raised his hand like he was in school. “Do hospitals even serve real food? Or just pretend food that makes you sad?” We all laughed. Caleb, seated across from Clinton, chuckled as he chewed. “You survived on pudding cups, Clint. You can’t even judge.” “That pudding saved my life,” Clinton retorted. “That pudding traumatised my childhood,” Caleb added.

Then his bravado rushed in, voice light: “Hard pass.” “Suit yourself.” He stared at her for a beat longer than necessary, then laughed again, louder this time, as if the room needed convincing. “The goth nun’s recruiting,” he declared, voice rising theatrically, “Repent now or forever lose your Wi-Fi privileges.” Brett looked up from his phone, eyes tired but alert, thumb still hovering mid-scroll. “Leave them alone, Paul. Some of us are trying to find inner peace—or at least a decent lunch special.”

Reaching for the scrambled eggs and peanut butter, I don’t fail to notice Damian’s eyes watching me closely. “You like ordering people around.” I remark as I spread the peanut butter over the bread before adding the eggs. Dad’s favourite combo. “Pardon?” He looks up, his thick eyebrows furrowed with confusion. After taking a bite, I continue. “I’ve only known you for a few hours but I can tell you like to order people around. ‘Rest!’ ‘Eat!’ Being polite takes nothing away from you, Damian.” A small smile slips onto his lips and I concentrate on my meal, disregarding the stupid butterflies dancing in my belly. If only he knew how gorgeous he looks when he smiles, he would never stop smiling.

You've been warned. The reply came fast: How many suicides are we talking. Me: He didn't specify. I think the ambiguity is intentional. Knox: Smart coaching strategy. I respect it. Me: He also said you have a smile that should require a permit. A longer pause. Knox: I genuinely don't know how to respond to that. Me: Neither did I. Eat something today. Your dad would want you to. Knox: Already on it. Margaret brought tuna noodle.

The kids were losing it. “Dad, you look like a mushroom!” Asher cackled. “You mean a tomato!” Alexander corrected between fits of laughter. Amelia clapped her hands, cheeks puffed with giggles. “More like a pizza man from TV, Dad!” I leaned against the doorframe, biting my lip to stop from laughing. “You know,” I said, “I was going to compliment the pancakes. But now, I’m just concerned for your dignity at this point.” Duncan narrowed his eyes on me. “Mock the…. chef, and the chef may deny… you food.”

I pretended to think as I tapped my finger on ny chin repeatedly. "Yep" I said popping the P and continued stuffing more on my mouth. "Hey. Losers" I whipped around and saw the one and only famous jock—James Duncan with his goons taling him like a lapdog. You know, Duncan Doughnut like Dunkin Doughnut. Nevermind.

I smiled, trying to ease the tension. In the brief pause, a mischievous thought popped into my head, and I decided to lighten the mood. “You know,” I began, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, “did you ever hear the one about the peanut?” He blinked, clearly not expecting that. “The peanut?” he echoed, sounding both intrigued and wary. “Yeah,” I said, nodding seriously. “Apparently, if you mix peanut oil with a bit of fire powder, it can work as a makeshift dynamite. Who knew, right? It’s basically the world’s most explosive snack.”