Novel & Cerita Wheelchair Jokes

"Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!" Jenny panicked and ran over when she saw Adrian getting out of his wheelchair. Adrian took a deep breath, withstanding the pain in his legs. After flexing for a moment, he said, "I'm fine. I've been in that wheelchair for more than half a month now. It's time I get some exercise." "Y-You're infuriating! Why do you insist on moving around when you're still recovering?" Jenny scolded.

She placed one hand on his shoulder and roughly pushed him off his wheelchair. He tipped sideways and hit the floor. His ass took the impact first, then his elbows. “God!” A sharp grunt escaped him before he bit it back. Pain flashed across his face, it was quick, then gone. He lay there for a second, breathing fast, his palms flat on the cold floor, trying to push himself up. His legs dragged uselessly behind him. Lilico and Gladdis burst into uncontrollable laughter, loud, overlapping, echoing in the big room.

more like wheel herself over. My eyes grew wide when I took in the wheelchair. “Mom, since when are you crippled? Why aren’t you walking?” She paused, her eyes wide with clear shock. Frazzled, she turned to stare at my father, and then grandfather, before turning back to me. “Very funny, Felix. Now is no time to make jokes.” She placed a soft, wrinkled palm on my knee covered with the hospital sheets. “You almost died! And you got shot?”

But the damn wheelchair wasn't cooperating as fast as I wanted it to. “F**k!” I yelled, looking at my useless legs, willing them to somehow magically move. Gripping the sides of the wheel chair, I tried to raise my torso. The pain came in quickly, sweeping through my muscles in sharp waves. “F**k me!” My voice came out in a whimper, like a wounded dog. “That damn truck driver… I hope he rots in jail.” “Mr Ivan.”

Jordan waved a dismissive hand like he was brushing off flies, his broad shoulders stiff with a don’t-fuck-with-me energy that usually kept idiots at bay. He parked me at a table near the back—our table, carved with scratches and dents from years of hungry hands—and strode off to grab trays. I hated that part, hated the few minutes I had to sit there like a wounded animal on display. My wheelchair squeaked if I tried to move it on my own, and I’d already endured enough laughs from that experiment last week. Jordan returned with trays, slamming one down in front of me with a grin that said he’d kill anyone who had dared to laugh while I was alone. His version of affection.

Fred said, swinging open the passenger door of his car with theatrical flair, "I’m not accepting any excuses. We are going to brunch. We are drinking champagne. We are celebrating survival." "Survival is right," Ashley muttered, adjusting her sunglasses. "Honestly, we should get shirts made. ‘I survived Desiree Hale’." Jason cackled from his wheelchair. "And on the back: ‘And all I got was this traumatic brain injury.’" "Jason," I gasped, half-laughing, half-scolding him. "What?" He shrugged. "If you can’t joke about your own coma, what can you joke about?" Edward snorted. "We should never let you around microphones. Ever."

Hide damage and pain with humor. “I am starting to feel uncomfortable, will someone offer the cripple a drink first?” Athena’s face fell and the guilt in her eyes became obvious. Alex looked awkward like he wasn’t expecting me to joke about myself, people never knew what to do when the crippled mock themselves first, it ruins their intentions. There’s a reason why people can’t shame the shameless. “Oh,” he laughed dryly. “I didn’t mean….” “You did,” I interrupted. “But don’t worry, I have had enough years to process my tragic condition.”