Pathological Joking Novels & Stories

I just laughed. "You are wonderful when you laugh. I want you more, "said Noah. Suddenly I stopped laughing and closed my mouth. As shame hit my body quickly "you know? I'm getting suspicious about something? "I said, trying to change the topic of conversation. "About what?" "Are you a lunatic escaping from a mental hospital or something? Or are you a cold-blooded psychopath like in the movies?" "What? Hahahahah Violen you're so silly. So you think I'm out of my mind? Strange and scary? "

"Don't you ever say that. Don't even joke about it. We're nothing like her, Heather. Nothing." We both laughed then… a loud, slightly unhinged sound that filled the empty spaces of my office and probably echoed down the hallway outside. It was the kind of laughter that only comes from people who have survived the absolute worst together and have nothing left to do but find the horror funny. The kind that borders on hysteria, that releases years of pent-up frustration in a single, cathartic moment. The kind that makes your ribs ache and your eyes water, not entirely from amusement.

I stop in my tracks, almost freezing on the spot, but I fight all these paralyzing tickles and force myself to turn to my sister, who is shivering from the corner. Really now? Isn’t that a very, very corked, distrustful, and ridiculous hoax? This is a very terrible joke because I would not want to think, even on a lighter note, that that monster is breathing as we speak. And ludicrous because, unless the jerkwhore had two lives, he could never have survived those denumerable bullets, right?

I joked lightly, and Serin rolled his eyes at my poor excuse of one. "Funny," he said humorlessly. I only cackled even harder. "No, seriously. You should step out of the corporate world and become a comedian with jokes like that." "Aw, come on, Serin." I followed him out of the house and into the backyard, where he walked out for some fresh air. "It was kind of funny, admit it!" "You need to admit yourself into a mental hospital with jokes like that." ###

Okay, this shit got to stop, maybe I should try a joke or something? “Hello triple Ds” I say chuckling awkwardly and they just stand there not knowing what to say. “you know, because the names of the three of you starts with a D” I explain my bad joke. “Yah we got it” Dylan says with a fake chuckle, okay, maybe that joke can still be saved. “I’m a double D myself” I say laughing liking my own joke and all their eyes instantly go to my breasts. I choke in my laughter when Derek lets out an angry growl and I sink further inside my hoodie while Dylan starts counting the specks of dust on the floor and Dean find the light fixtures very interesting all of a sudden.

“Excuse you, I earn mine through emotional labor keeping you two from working yourselves to death.” “And hey, that’s a lifestyle choice, not a crime.” “Oh right,” I said, “The clown thinks he deserves a paycheck for telling us bad jokes.” “Correction,” he said, waving his slice like a wand at the both of us. “I tell great jokes that you two are too goddamn serious to appreciate.” Nolan laughed, shaking his head. “You mean those jokes that will make us question our sanity?” Cassian pointed at him. “You see? That’s the problem with you workaholics.”

Tiodor Lison sat at his office desk, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. Yesterday’s events had made one thing clear: his victory was assured. On the monitor, he once again reviewed the report on Libia Musso. It detailed every time the young woman had seen a psychologist. He had needed some money to dig deeper into her file, but it only confirmed what he had already suspected. “Depressive disorders, anxiety, all due to a disorganized attachment in childhood,” he read aloud.

He laughed and turned to his assistants, "Did you hear that? This is really the funniest joke in the world!" Qin Haodong frowned and asked in icy tones, "Why is that funny?" "Funny? Of course, it's funny!" James said, "Go to the World Medical Association and ask about traditional Chinese medical science. Everyone knows it’s deceptive witchcraft founded in superstition. No one believes that traditional Chinese medical science can cure diseases!"

Elliot’s face was full of confusion. “His psychological illness,” I replied. Elliot snorted. “What is that word, huh? Mind to elaborate, please.” “I mean, we should stop it, right? He can’t keep on hurting himself like this!” I cried my voice out and pointed at Zarion’s open and closed wounds. Blood still glistening on the table with apparent crimsoness “I think it’s a psychological illness, Elliot. We call it when someone’s—” “Wait, I get it. You think Zarion’s crazy? Humans are really ridiculous, aren’t you?” Elliot was right, though. We can sometimes be ridiculous. He stuck out his tongue, and showed his hands at me to prove a point.

Is ghost even real? Maybe she could ask her father for help. Who’s doing these kinds of jokes should not be tolerated, not even respecting Dior, who’s the owner of the phone. If someone is pranking Farrah, it must be someone she knew, because why call her like a freaking lunatic for hours? And it’s just her. Why doesn’t this person call her father Dior’s father-in-law? It just means that this person was deliberately targeting her. *