Riddle Jokes Novels & Stories

SCARLETT'S POV. I was completely right. The party was boring as hell, and from the looks of things we weren't even near done here. And then even worse, the annoying as fuck MC who thoughts his jokes were so funny but they were obviously not, had been wasting so much time on the third segment of the programme which was jokes and riddles, that I almost threw my shoe at him. If I heard one more uncle joke coming from his mouth, I could just do it right there, damning all the consequences.

"Ohhh... such a pity... but don't get discouraged. I know that this riddle is a bit hard. Let me give you the answer for this one instead..." The cute toddler voice of the flower sounded strange when she said these encouraging words. "Hmmm.. Which flower swears??? Well... it's none other than... Hibis...CUSES.. It's the Hibiscuses! WHAHAHAHAHA!" [Err???? Is that a riddle or a lame joke????] Just like Nero, Audrey and the rest were also rendered speechless by the answer they got from it. What the heck??? Is that what you called riddles????? That is more like a joke! A lame one at that!

"Alright, fine. If you won't smile, I'll have to tell you my top-tier jokes. What do you call a fake noodle?" Elena had blinked, her stern frown flickering for a split second. "What?" "An impasta." She had stared at me in absolute, stony silence for three whole seconds. "That is terrible. That is the worst joke I've ever heard." "Okay, okay, tough crowd," I had grinned, my dark eyes sparkling with wicked delight as I stroked her cheek. "Why don't scientists trust atoms?" "Jaxx, please stop…" "Because they make up everything."

“I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine,” Rachel didn’t mind being left alone. She didn’t have much to say to Alex, who seemed to be enjoying the company of his peers. She moved through the crowd, picking up hor d’oeuvres along the way, and was about to take a bite out of a tiny potato puff when she heard laughter coming from behind her. A man was telling jokes to his friends in a loud enough voice that Rachel couldn’t help but overhear. “What can a goose do, a duck can't, and a lawyer should?” He continued when no one answered.

“Hey, no brooding. This is an adventure, not a prison sentence. Let me distract you.” She turned to him, her expression wary. “What are you going to do? Tell me one of your terrible jokes?” “You wound me,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “But yes. Absolutely.” He cleared his throat, adopting a serious tone. “Why don’t skeletons fight each other?” Riele blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Why?” “Because they don’t have the guts.” The joke was terrible. Absolutely awful. But Riele burst into laughter anyway, the tension in her chest breaking apart with each giggle. Jay grinned, triumphant, as if her joy were his greatest victory.

Rachel teased, smirking at him as she edged away from him slowly and he slowly approached her, showing her the tickle hands. "Not tickles please not tickles," Rachel muttered as she started to pick up the pace and he followed her with his full strength as she sprinted off her feets. At this point, the MC who was some comedic industry plant was telling some lame joke to people who were too rich to care, but willingly smiled and laughed for the camera. Made sense, because this event was being broadcasted in every station that mattered. "And what on God's earth brings a smile to your face? because I sure as hell know it ain't his dry as sahara jokes that make me thirsty and not even in the nice

"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.

the man nodded. “Alright,” said the facilitator. “Let’s rotate. Jokes, riddles, weird facts. Come on, unleash your inner campfire gremlin.” Katherine nudged Kingsley. “You better say something.” He looked at her with mock offense. “Is that a challenge?” “I’m saying you’ve been making bad jokes since 2009. Now’s your time to shine.” He raised a hand. “Alright. What did the zero say to the eight?” The group leaned in.

It felt good—light, like a breath of fresh air in this park where the wind rustled the leaves around us. We sat on the bench after that, side by side, our shoulders almost touching. He started telling these silly jokes—the kind that weren’t even funny, just dry and ridiculous, like “Why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was outstanding in his field.” Corny as hell. But I laughed anyway, hard and genuine, because the real joke was how bad they were, how he delivered them with that straight face like he thought they were gold. It warmed me up inside, chasing away the chill for a bit.

A message bubble lit up under his name, cheerful and oblivious. Just another one of his dry, stupid jokes—something about his dinner being so terrible he was convinced the restaurant was trying to assassinate him with undercooked chicken. He'd probably attached one of those ridiculous GIFs he was always finding, something animated and silly that was meant to make me laugh.