Unspeakable Try Not To Laugh Novels & Stories

A huge laugh. Fair. The kind that escaped before she could stop it. Reasonable. And somehow— Peanut laughed too. God. Not a giggle. Not a squeak. Fair. A laugh. Reasonable honestly. Tiny. Short. Perfect. God. The room froze. Fair. Completely. Reasonable. Nobody moved. God. Nobody breathed. Fair. Because surely that hadn't just happened. Reasonable honestly. Then Peanut laughed again. God. Another tiny burst. Fair.

It's the most bizarre, unthinkable reaction possible, but there's no helping or taking it back once it's out. “I'm sorry,” I manage before another laugh bursts out of me. “It's just... What is this? Did somebody script that for you? And you,” I add, waving a hand to the thug. “How many times did you practice cracking your knuckles to get it to happen just like that?”

He laughed, but the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. It was as if he was trying to say something but was afraid of the consequences it could bring. “Maybe what I have to say doesn't really matter.” The laugh came again this time drier than the last. “Stop,” I interrupted.“Let's just forget that, ” I smiled, noticing his uncomfortable deamour.

Bit down on my bottom lip to try and stop it. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. You just sound so fucking funny." I blurted through my fingers. "Cruel mate." Nessa laughed at this as well. Chuckled like a witch you found in badly written movies. Tilted her head back just enough that the column of her throat looked more bony than ever before.

His arms stretched wide, face scrunched in intense concentration, complete with sound effects that were far louder than anything permitted at cruising altitude. A flight attendant paused mid-aisle and gave him a look that said I am trying very hard to be patient, but this is testing me. Lucas, blissfully unaware of both social cues and authority figures, zoomed past her with a triumphant whoooooosh, narrowly missing someone’s elbow. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I failed. Well, partially. A small, undignified snort escaped, and I immediately pretended to cough, because dignity, once lost, must at least be mourned.

No child could ever be conceived by him. So this doctor was lying. This was all another one of their twisted schemes. And before I could stop myself, a sound tore free from my throat—raw, jagged, uncontrollable. I laughed. It burst out of me with a violence that shocked even me. A laugh sharp as glass, slicing through the heavy silence in the room. My shoulders shook with it, my lungs burned, but I couldn’t stop. The harder I tried to control it, the harder it came. I laughed long and hard, until tears blurred my vision.

He shuffled his feet back and forth and gave her a stilted smile. “Oh, this is a hoot! I’ve got quite the soap opera going on here, don’t I?” She tried to stifle another bout of laughter, but failed miserably. “You’re not laughing with me. Why aren’t you laughing?” And now, neither was she. “Oh. I don’t feel so good. I hope you catch me before I….” “Serena!”

He wouldn’t look at me. “Taylor, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just need to go. It’s not you, it’s just me,” he said. I cringed. Wow. That was the best he could come up with? It wasn’t me, it was him. He realized he’d used the worst phrase possible just as I realized I was the only one still naked. I quickly found my t-shirt and slipped it over my head as I desperately fought back tears that I knew would come any moment now. I refused to cry in front of him. Refused to cry over another jackass of a man.

All the laughter I was holding in comes out two times fold, I can't even control it, I slump against my seat,tears forming at the corners of my eyes. "Ms Monoa! You are crossing the line here." Mr Rogers says firmly. I give a two seconds sign to him while I try to stop my laugh, that seems to make everybody else laugh out loud. "Silence!" He slams his hand on the table. "Now, ms Monoa,please tell us what you find so extremely funny enough to disturb my class in such a disrespectful way." "Sorry sir, i just remembered I forgot my math textbook." "And you find that funny?"

He glares at his little nephew with an expression of utter, catastrophic betrayal, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. A sudden, loud laugh bursts right out of my throat before I can even think to suppress it. It’s a raw, unfiltered snort—completely unladylike, entirely breaking the strict rules of decorum I’ve lived by my entire life. I quickly clap both hands over my mouth, my eyes crinkling as my shoulders shake violently. The pure, unadulterated absurdity of Russia’s most feared, terrifying mafia boss being drawn as a literal pack horse by a six-year-old is too much for my fragile walls to hold.