Pathological Joking Novels & Stories

“Hmm?” “If you keep talking like a LinkedIn motivational speaker, I’m going to throw up all over your father’s car interior.” He turned, blue eyes dropping to my face. “My joke was good.” “Your joke sounds like it was raised in a boardroom.” “That’s slander.” “That’s autobiography.”

Pride on life support. “Haha,” I said stiffly. “Yeah. Right. So funny. Such a good joke. Bestie things. Love that for me. This was a very expensive joke, emotionally, mentally, spiritually… but sure. Let’s laugh about it. Let’s all just ha-ha our way through the gaping hole in my soul. Let’s sprinkle some trauma seasoning on it while we’re at it.” She didn’t stop smiling. Tasha reached across the counter and tapped her fork lightly against my forehead like she was trying to see if my skull was hollow.

She’d have to be careful not to make it too obvious, although most people would probably take it as unbridled animosity. “It’s just a turn of phrase,” I said. “Like saying someone throws like a girl. Doesn’t mean girls can’t throw. Just that most of them look like a spaz when they do it.” “Twaddle!” said Flossie. Somehow everyone was getting the hump with me over nothing. Phil might have been a pro at getting people’s backs up, but I was a born natural. “Hey, let’s all bear in mind I had a difficult childhood and often say stupid things. Think of it as a mental illness, like Tourette’s, but in fully formed sentences.” This didn’t seem to appease them.

Max looked amused and a little puzzled, and I was flabbergasted into silence. “And you lot think I am crazy!” I suddenly burst out laughing, but none of them were laughing with me. This was a cruel joke. They were playing a cruel joke on me. They wanted me to believe that I was more than I was. I was just hurt that Max would be a part of such a horrific joke!

"You have no idea–I was just joking around, but those disgusting guys went crazy asking me for your contact." The old me would have already been crying, asking her how she could do this to me, voice breaking. Not this me. My teeth clenched so hard they hurt. My whole body trembled with anger. I snatched the flyer out of her hand and slapped her across the face. Tara screamed, clutching her cheek in disbelief. "You hit me? I treat you like my best friend, and you can't even take a joke anymore?" Best friend? I let out a cold laugh.

I take another swing of my drink, and stare right ahead, but when it feels like I'm going to have a body in my room with the cause of death as, 'death from uncontrollable laughter' I turn to face him. "Care to share the joke?" I ask dryly. He wheezes, looking like he's out of breath before turning to me with a hand clutching his chest. "I'm sorry—I'm sorry. I just remembered when we were at the toilet stall, and you called him a show baby. I can imagine the field day the media would have with that one." I snort, nearly laughing at the memory too, but another memory pushes itself alongside it. “When you spoke about me, I was pressed against the wall—my pretty cock deep inside another guy's mo

“How hard can it be?” Just as I’m about to have a stroke, he breaks into a huge grin. “I’m kidding. Of course I’ve parachuted before.” I hit him several times on the chest with my fists. “STOP – DOING – THAT!” He laughs. “What?” “Bullshitting every time someone asks you a question!” “You ever heard the expression, ‘Laugh to keep from crying’?” “Yeah, so?” “So I can either joke around and keep it light, or I can be serious and we can all be miserable and afraid and then panic and lose focus and die. Which is it gonna be?”

status to flirt with female colleagues from other departments. I tolerated it, telling myself he was just networking. But now, just to impress Miguel and get ahead, he couldn't wait to trample all over me. I let out a short, humorless laugh. "Todd Westman, what right do you have to lecture me?" His eyes darted around for a second before he raised his voice even louder. "I'm just saying this as a colleague who knows right from wrong! You should know what's good for you, Macy!" Looking at his hypocritical, revolting expression, I couldn't even be bothered to argue. I picked up the iced coffee on my desk and, without hesitation, splashed it straight in his face.

Because the kick is more painful. ‘Hey, you can't laugh like that. They are your babies that desire such weird combinations.’ ‘You are such a loving father, Isaac.’ Tears well up in my eyes. “Don't joke." I plead. If she is joking then it's not a good joke. She eyes me with a sadistic smile. “I can't believe you still think that it's a joke. Get over it. I can't believe you fell for my game." I step towards her and cup her cheeks. “I said It's. Not. Funny. Anymore." I grit out.

I shook my head as his words finally pulled me out of the oceans of my thoughts. "You! It can not be you. Am I dead? What is going on?" Hearing my own words, I wanted to punch myself. Seeing the mightiest being of our kind, all I was able to say was total nonsense. Hearing my nonsense, he started laughing hysterically as if he might have heard a funniest joke. I growled under my chest in annoyance. Because the joker he was laughing at, it was actually me. And as my annoyed growl reached his ears, he was almost laughing as a mad man. Well, technically, talking about him in such a way, it was definitely considered as a disrespectful behavior. But I was out of my mind and I was annoyed. I could