Sence Of Humor の小説・ストーリー

He laughed a lot when he was in trouble and when he was to cause trouble but not on any instance did he never laughed for a good cause and neither was his laughter genuine at any point. "Well, you really do amuse me Ron and i appreciate that. I see you are being the tough guy all over again, taking out my men and slowly outnumbering us without any effort..nice one. I must commend you for your exceptional fighting skills. Yet, you amuse me ," he said with a short laugh. "You are amused by everything because you are sick and you have a lopsided sense of humor that will never let you laugh to the right things," Ron said. Mike's brows furrowed.

They both laugh humorously. * * * * *

away from him the answer to that was very clear and it made his earlier observation to have some meaning other than a silly joke. but then the reality of that joke was somehow more devastating.

I gathered my things, my face hot, and walked out, Zach right behind me. As we walked down the hallway, I could hear Zach's footsteps fall in line with mine as he strided beside me. "You know," he started, pure smugness dripping out of his voice. "You should learn to take a joke." I stopped short and whipped around to face him. "Yeah? Well, you should learn to make one!" He cocked a brow. "Oh? think I can't make a joke?" I glared at him. "I know for a fact that your sense of humor is fucked up."

"It was meant to be funny." I shake my head. "You have a strange taste of humor then. You are so not funny."

“Any more and I’ll have an aneurysm in my brain.” I clear my throat, trying to straighten out my thought process and failing. I’m sure my cheeks are flushed, and I’m so glad nobody in this room can read minds. “Impressive.” I say, mustering a calm into my voice that my body absolutely does not feel. “He has a sense of humor.” He leans forward, eyes on me again. “Why are you here, really?”

he muttered, almost to himself. The word should’ve stung. It didn’t. The way he said it wasn’t cruel it was bemused, almost fond. Like he was turning the idea over in his head, trying to decide whether weird was a dealbreaker or something he could live with. Like maybe, just maybe, he was trying to figure me out too. I decided to push back. Humor was my only reliable weapon in situations like this. “Weird is just another word for interesting,” I said, forcing a grin I didn’t feel. “You’re welcome.”

Life’s so unfair, man. “What does a spoon matter when we’re literally stuck in the middle of the woods with invisible monsters, shady, bad men and whatever else creeps around here? Can you please, for once, use your brain and kick some sense in the gear?” He whisper-hisses, so red in the face, he reminds me of a tomato. “You could join a casting for vegetable commercials looking like this,” I remark and laugh at the brilliant joke my brain just reacted. Shit, am I not the funniest guy out there? Look at me - sense of humor, looks, body and an impressive spoon collection, I have it all, damn it. No wonder my little vixen couldn’t deny me.

This time he knew it had to be humor and she narrowed her gaze. “What is wrong with you. Why do you find humor when I’m being serious!” She said and he felt it a bit more, muscles in his face that didn’t know how to work tried. “Because it’s a foolish thing to say and you know it. You can think it if you want to, but you aren’t very good at saying no.” He told her leaning forward and she turned her head, but he just inhaled her scent an odd rumbled in his chest.

“I do not fall.” There was a pause. “No,” he said calmly. “You just look very funny while slipping.” The line went dead. I stood there for a long time. Then I began laughing again. Because if I did not laugh, I might start screaming. The televisions behind me kept talking. The city kept moving and for the first time in my life, I understood what it felt like to be the joke. But jokes can turn dark very quickly and I am very good at dark.