This is a nice short film with a positive message.
Enjoy!
“When I Grow Up” follows the imagination of a young boy’s dreams for his future.
Category: Short Story
Short Story:
Step into a world of brevity and brilliance with our curated collection of short stories. In this literary realm, every narrative is a compact masterpiece, delivering a powerful punch of emotion, suspense, and insight within a limited space. From heartwarming tales that linger in the soul to suspenseful plots that keep you on the edge of your seat, our short story category is a treasure trove of concise yet captivating storytelling. Explore the art of compact narratives that skillfully weave intricate plots, vivid characters, and profound themes, offering a delightful escape or a thought-provoking reflection—all within the time it takes to finish a cup of coffee. Immerse yourself in the world of succinct storytelling, where every word matters and every story leaves a lasting impression.
The Pillsbury Doughboy’s Obituary
Please join us in remembering a great icon of the entertainment community.
The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 75. Doughboy was buried in a lightly greased coffin.
Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay their respects at his funeral, including Mrs Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies. Captain Crunch sent his apologies. The grave-site was piled high with flours.
Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy in the graveyard and lovingly described Doughboy as a man who did not realize how much he was kneaded. Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was not considered a very ‘smart’ cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times, he still, even as a crusty old man, was considered a roll model for millions.
Doughboy is survived by his wife, Playa Dough; two children, John Dough and Jane Dough; plus they have one in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart. The funeral was held at 2:50 for about 20 minutes.
Birth Of A Candy Bar
It was another Payday, and I was tired of Mr. Goodbar. I saw Miss Hershey standing behind the Powerhouse on the corner of Clark and Fifth Avenue when I whipped out my Whopper and whispered, “Hey Sweetheart, how’d you like to Crunch on my big hunk for a Million Dollar Bar?”
Well, she immediately went down on my Tootsie Roll, and it was like Pure Almond Joy! I couldn’t help but grab her delicious Mounds because it was easy to see that this little Twix had the Red Hots. It was all I could do to hold the Snicker and Crackle as my Butterfinger went up her tight little Kit Kat, and she started to scream, “Oh Henry, Oh Henry!”
Soon she was fondling my Peter Pan and ZagNut and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I blew my Milk Duds clear to Mars that gave her a taste of the old Milky Way. She asked me if I was into M&M, but I said, “Hey Chicklet, no kinky stuff.” I said “Look you little Reese’s Pieces, don’t be a Zero, be a Lifesaver. Why don’t you take my Whatchamacallit and slip it up your Bit ‘O’ Honey?” (What a piece of Juicy Fruit she was, too!) She screamed, “Oh Crackerjack, better than the Three Musketeers!” as I rammed my Ding Dong up her Rocky Road and into her Peanut Butter Cup. Well, I was giving it to her Good ‘N’ Plenty, when all of a sudden… my Starburst!
Yeah, as luck would have it, she started to grow Chunky and complained of a Wrigley in her stomach. Sure enough, nine months later, out popped Baby Ruth!
Tom and Eggs
Tom did like he always does, kissing his wife, crawling into bed and falling to sleep. All of a sudden, he wakes up with an elderly man dressed in a white robe standing in front of his bed.
“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?… and who are you?” he asked.
“This is not your bedroom,” the man replied, “I am St. Peter, and you are in heaven.”
“WHAT! Are you saying I’m dead? I don’t want to die! I’m too young,” said Tom. “I want you to send me back immediately.”
“It’s not that easy”, said St.Peter. “You can only return as a dog or a hen. The choice is your own.”
Tom thought about it for a while, and figured out that being a dog is too tiring, but a hen probably has a nice and relaxed life. Running around with a rooster can’t be that bad.
“I want to return as a hen,” Tom replied.
And in the next second, he found himself in a chicken run, really nicely feathered. But now he felt like his rear end was going to blow. Then along came the rooster.
“Hey, you must be the new hen St. Peter told me about,” he said. “How do you like being a hen?”
“Well, OK, I guess, but it feels like my ass is about to explode.”
“Oh, that!” said the rooster. “That’s only the ovulation going on. You need to lay an egg.”
“How do I do that?” Tom asked.
“Cluck twice, and then you push all you can.”
Tom clucked twice and pushed more than he was good for, and then ‘plop’ an egg was on the ground.
“Wow” Tom said. “That felt fantastic!” So he clucked again and squeezed. And you better believe that there was yet another egg on the ground. The third time he clucked, he heard his wife shout:
“Tom, for Christ’s sake! Wake up! You’re shittin’ all over the bed!”
Joke Of The Day
The teacher asked the students to write a “short novel” as an English test. She explained that great novels always involved mystery, sex, royalty and religion.
In ten minutes, little Tommy announced he was finished, and the he’d included her four basic elements, so the teacher read:
“Holy Moses!” cried the princess. “Pregnant, again! I wonder Who.”
Load More