Tag: Humor

Featured Funny Short Story

The Electric Fence Incident

Experience the shocking tale of 'The Electric Fence Incident.' A hilarious and electrifying misadventure that will make you rethink lawn care. Read now for a jolt of laughter!

Some people send newsletters every Christmas to keep friends and family informed as to what happened during the year. Well, this is my version, but it is only about one incident last summer.

We have the standard 6-foot fence in the backyard, and I heard about burglaries increasing dramatically in the entire neighborhood.

To make sure this never happened to me, I got an electric fence and ran a single wire along the top of the fence. Actually, I got the biggest cattle charger that Tractor Supply had, made for 26 miles of fence. I then used an 8-foot-long ground rod and drove it 7.5 feet into the ground. The ground rod is the key; the more you have in the ground, the better the fence works.

One day, I was cutting the grass in my backyard with my 6-hp mower. The hot wire is broken and laying out in the yard. I knew for a fact that I had unplugged the charger. I pushed the mower around the wire and reached down to grab it and throw it out of the way. It seems as though I hadn’t remembered to unplug it after all.

Now, I’m standing there, I’ve got the running lawnmower in my right hand and the 1.7 gigavolt fence wire in the other hand. Keep in mind, the charger is about the size of a marine battery and has a picture of an upside-down cow on fire on the cover. Time stood still. The first thing I notice is my balls trying to climb up the front side of my body. My ears curled downward, and I could feel the lawnmower ignition firing in the backside of my brain. Every time that Briggs & Stratton rolled over, I could feel the spark in my head. I was literally at one with the engine. It seems as though the fence charger and the POS lawnmower were fighting over who would control my electrical impulses.

Science says you cannot crap and pee at the same time. I beg to differ. Not only did I do both at once, but my bowels emptied 3 different times in less than half a second. It was a Matrix kind of bowel movement, where time is creeping along, and you’re all leaned back, and BAM BAM BAM you just crap your pants 3 times. It seemed like there were minutes in between, but in reality they were so close together it was like exhaust pulses from a big block Ford turning 8 grand.

At this point, I’m about 30 minutes (maybe 2 seconds) into holding onto the fence wire. My hand is wrapped around the wire, palm down, so I can’t let go. I grew up near a farm, so I know all about electric fences, but my father always had those POS chargers made by International or whoever that were like 9 volts and just kind of tickled. This I could not let go of. The 8-foot-long ground rod is now accepting signals from me through the permanently damp Ark-La-Tex river bottom soil. At this point, I’m thinking I’m going to have to just man up and take it, until the lawnmower runs out of gas.

“Damn!” I think, as I remember, I just filled the tank! Now the lawnmower is starting to run rough. It has settled into a loping run pattern, as if it had some kind of big lawnmower race cam in it. Covered in poop and pee and with my balls on my chest, I thought, “Oh God, please die. Pleeeeze die”. But nooooo, it settles into the rough lumpy cam idle nicely and remains there, like a big bore roller cam EFI motor waiting for the go command from its owner’s right foot.

So here I am in the middle of July, 98 degrees, 80% humidity, standing in my own backyard, begging God to kill me. God did not take me that day; he left me there, covered in my own fluids, to writhe in the misery my own stupidity had created.

I honestly don’t know how I got loose from the wire. I woke up laying on the ground a while later. The lawnmower was beside me, out of gas. It was later in the day, and I was sunburned. There were two large dead grass spots where I had been standing, and then another long, skinny dead spot where the wire had laid while I was on the ground still holding on to it. I assume I finally had a seizure and, in the resulting thrashing, somehow let go of the wire. Upon waking from my electrically induced sleep, I realized a few things:

  1. Three of my teeth seem to have melted.
  2. I now have cramps in the bottoms of my feet and my right butt cheek (not the left, just the right).
  3. Poop and pee, when all mixed together, do not smell as bad as you might think.
  4. My left eye will not open.
  5. My right eye will not close.
  6. The lawnmower runs like a sum ma bitch now. Seriously! I think our little session cleared out some carbon fouling or something, because it was better than new after that.
  7. My balls are still smaller than average, yet they are almost a foot long.
  8. I can turn on the TV in the family room by farting while thinking of the number 4 (I still don’t understand this). That day changed my life. I now have a newfound respect for things. I appreciate the little things more, and now I always triple check to make sure the fence is unplugged before I mow the lawn.

The good news is that if a burglar does try to come over the fence, I can clearly visualize what my security system will do to him. And THAT gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling all over, which also reminds me to triple check before I mow.

I originally wrote this in 2005. I thought it was a good time to republish it.

Featured Funny Short Story

The Unseen Comedian of Puzzola

Join Earl and Randy in Puzzola for a whimsical tale of laughter, friendship, and an unforgettable imaginary friend with a unique twist.

Long ago, in the town of Puzzola, lived a middle-aged man named Earl. Earl was no ordinary fellow; he had a peculiar companion that most adults couldn’t boast of – an imaginary friend named Randy.

Randy had been with Earl ever since he was a child. While most imaginary friends grew up and faded into the annals of memory, Randy had not only stuck around but had developed quite the quirk. He had an uncontrollable flatulence problem, and boy, did he make sure everyone knew it!

On a typical day in Puzzola, Earl strolled through the town square, his imaginary friend by his side. Randy was invisible to everyone except Earl, so passersby couldn’t understand why Earl would randomly burst into laughter or make strange gestures. To them, he looked like the town’s goofball.

Earl and Randy’s adventures were nothing short of hilarious. They visited the local library, where Earl pretended to read serious books, only to burst into fits of giggles every time Randy let out a rip-roaring toot that sounded like a trumpet.

Next, they headed to Puzzola’s quaint café, where they ordered a round of coffee and muffins. Earl couldn’t help but chuckle at his friend’s invisible antics, like moving chairs or making napkins float through the air, while letting out the loudest, most comical farts.

As they walked through the park, Earl’s laughter became infectious, and soon, a group of kids began to follow them, laughing uproariously without knowing why. Earl and Randy had turned an ordinary day into a sidesplitting comedy show.

The highlight of the day was a visit to the Puzzola Museum of Art. While Earl admired the priceless paintings, Randy took it upon himself to add a touch of absurdity to each exhibit. He made abstract, interpretive “fart art” in the galleries, which left Earl in stitches. When Earl noticed the museum security guards frantically sniffing the air, he couldn’t contain his laughter.

Earl and Randy’s shenanigans were the talk of Puzzola. People couldn’t decide if Earl was a genius comedian or just a little crazy. But everyone agreed that life in the town had become a lot funnier since Randy’s arrival.

However, it wasn’t all fun and games. Earl occasionally had to apologize to serious-minded individuals who were less amused by Randy’s antics. Yet, his infectious laughter and disarming charm won over most people.

As the sun began to set over Puzzola, Earl and Randy found themselves at the local comedy club. The audience was in for a treat, as Earl stepped on stage and introduced his invisible friend. The entire crowd was in stitches, laughing so hard that tears streamed down their faces.

Earl knew that life with an imaginary friend like Randy was far from ordinary. It was a life filled with laughter, joy, and a bit of embarrassment. But in a world where serious matters often dominated, their humorous escapades brought a breath of fresh air, or should we say, a gust of fresh air.

And so, in Puzzola, where normal was overrated, Earl and Randy proved that even adults could have the most unusual, hilarious companions, and that a good laugh could make life a lot better. Even with a little flatulence thrown in for good measure.

Many years later, Earl, at the ripe age of 98, passed away peacefully in his sleep. He left behind a lifetime of laughter and unforgettable memories. But for Randy, life took a poignant turn. With Earl’s departure, Randy was left to live alone in a world where no one could hear his farts, and the world suddenly seemed a little less colorful, a little less fragrant, and a lot less funny.



Featured Funny

The Family Genetic Cookbook: The Traits You Got from Mom and Dad

The Family Genetic Cookbook – We've all heard the age-old saying, “You're a chip off the old block.” But have you ever really stopped to ponder the fascinating quirks and qualities that have been passed down through your family tree? If you thought your genetic inheritance was just about blue eyes or a penchant for spicy food, think again! Today, we're looking into the wacky world of traits that you didn't even realize came from your dear old Mom and Dad.

We’ve all heard the age-old saying, “You’re a chip off the old block.” But have you ever really stopped to ponder the fascinating quirks and qualities that have been passed down through your family tree? If you thought your genetic inheritance was just about blue eyes or a penchant for spicy food, think again! Today, we’re looking into the wacky world of traits that you didn’t even realize came from your dear old Mom and Dad. Prepare to be amazed, amused, and perhaps a little horrified.

The Thrifty Thumb

Remember how your mom used to wash and reuse ziplock bags? Well, if you’re known for pinching pennies or have a knack for thriftiness, you can tip your hat to dear old mom. That’s right; the gene for frugality often comes from the maternal side of the family. If you’ve ever debated whether it’s worth washing that aluminum foil, you’ve got your mom to thank for your eco-friendly, money-saving ways.

Papa’s Palate

Dad’s barbecuing skills might be legendary, but did you know that your gourmet taste buds might be a result of your paternal lineage? Studies suggest that your love for perfectly grilled steaks or a finely aged wine could be attributed to your dad’s impeccable palate. So the next time you savor a five-course meal, you know whom to credit (and invite for dinner).

Mom’s Musical Magic

Are you the family DJ, forever curating the perfect playlist for every occasion? If so, you might be channeling your inner musical genius from your maternal side. Mom’s love for catchy tunes and her humming habit could be the reason you have an uncanny knack for recognizing that earworm before anyone else.

Dad’s Dance Moves

On the flip side, if you’re famous for your not-so-graceful dance steps, you can thank your old man for your distinct lack of rhythm. Dad’s quirky moves might have been passed on to you, resulting in the spectacle you create on the dance floor. But remember, it’s all in good fun, so go ahead and embrace your dad’s “unique” style.

The Coffee Gene

Are you known as the caffeine queen or king in your family? If you can’t start your day without a cup of joe, you can thank your mom for passing on her love for coffee. That morning ritual of sipping coffee is a delightful tradition that’s been in your family for generations. Coffee addicts, unite!

Dad’s Farting Finesse

If you’ve ever been in awe of your dad’s ability to produce an impressive array of sound effects through flatulence, you might have inherited his “gift.” Dad’s mastery of the art of farting can be handed down through the generations, so embrace your gaseous legacy, and let it rip!

Mom’s Green Thumb

Do you have a knack for nurturing houseplants, coaxing them to flourish and thrive? Your maternal side might have something to do with your green thumb. Mom’s love for gardening and her ability to make plants bloom is a gift she’s passed down to you. Next time you’re repotting a plant, remember to thank your mom for your horticultural skills.

Dad’s DIY Prowess

If you’re the family handyman or handywoman, don’t be surprised if you find yourself channelling your inner Mr. Fix-It. Dad’s DIY skills, whether it’s building a bookshelf or fixing a leaky faucet, have likely rubbed off on you. So, the next time you’re assembling furniture or tackling home improvement projects, you’re essentially carrying on a family tradition.

The Gift of Gab

If you’ve got the gift of gab and the ability to strike up a conversation with just about anyone, you might owe your conversational prowess to your maternal lineage. Mom’s legendary ability to chat with the checkout clerk, the neighbor, and even the mail carrier has found its way to you. You’ve got her charm and charisma to thank for your social success.

Dad’s Driving Dilemmas

Have you ever found yourself arguing with the GPS, convinced that you know a shortcut to beat the traffic? Well, you’ve got your dad for your stubborn navigation gene to thank for that. Dad’s refusal to admit he’s lost or ask for directions has been bequeathed to you, along with the adventurous (and sometimes misguided) spirit of exploration.

Mom’s Organization Obsession

If your closet is color-coded, your desk is a model of precision, and your spice rack is alphabetized, your mother’s organizational genes have undoubtedly influenced your life. Mom’s love for order and her need for a tidy home have been imprinted in your DNA. You’re the living embodiment of Marie Kondo.

Dad’s Sweet Tooth

Are you powerless in the face of a gooey chocolate cake or a decadent slice of pie? If you inherited your insatiable sweet tooth from your dad, he’s the culprit behind those midnight ice cream raids. Blame it on his love for dessert, and indulge your sugar cravings without guilt.

Mom’s Masterchef Moves

If you’ve mastered the art of preparing a gourmet meal out of random leftovers, you might have your mom’s creative cooking genes to thank. Her ability to whip up a delicious dinner from whatever’s in the fridge has clearly rubbed off on you. Bon appétit!

Dad’s Dubious Dance with Technology

Do you find yourself befuddled by the latest gadgets, struggling to set up the Wi-Fi or get the TV remote to work? You can point your finger at your dad for your tech troubles. Dad’s perennial battle with technology and his refusal to read instruction manuals have been transmitted to you. So, don’t feel bad about calling tech support for the umpteenth time.

Mom’s Meticulous Memory

If you have an uncanny ability to remember birthdays, anniversaries, and the most obscure details of your family’s history, you’re channeling your inner mom. Her meticulous memory and attention to detail have helped you become the family historian and event planner extraordinaire.

Dad’s DIY Quirks

Is your garage filled with half-finished projects and a myriad of tools that you’re not entirely sure how to use? If so, your dad’s DIY quirks have become your own. His love for starting projects and the occasional procrastination are now a part of your creative process.

So there you have it, a whimsical whirlwind tour of the quirks and qualities you might not have realized you inherited from your parents. From your frugal tendencies to your musical inclinations, your family’s genetic legacy runs deeper than you think. Embrace the humor in these genetic gifts, and remember, whether you’re dancing like nobody’s watching, cracking dad jokes, or even making some unexpected sounds, you’re simply paying homage to your family roots. So, the next time you catch yourself doing something quirky, just blame it on Mom and Dad – they’d be proud!



Featured Funny Jokes Political

A War Without Weapons

The world economy ensures there are no weapons at all. A man signs up for his country’s army. He gets to training camp. The sergeant hands him a piece of wood shaped like a rifle, with a rubber bayonet on the end.

The world economy ensures there are no weapons at all. A man signs up for his country’s army. He gets to training camp. The sergeant hands him a piece of wood shaped like a rifle, with a rubber bayonet on the end.

“Right, men! This is the new war tactics. You point your rifle at the enemy and say ‘bangety bang’! You poke your bayonet at the enemy and say ‘stabbity stab’”! The soldiers look at each other and shrug – WTH?

Days later, the men are sent to a battlefield. The enemy is massed on the other side – they too have wooden rifles with rubber bayonets. They start walking towards each other. The lines meet – the soldiers start pretend shooting and bayoneting. The words ‘bangety bang and stabbity stab’ ring out. Amazingly, men on both sides die in their thousands!!

Finally, amidst the corpses, our hero stands, stunned by all this. Suddenly, he sees a single unarmed enemy soldier walking slowly towards him across the bodies. As he gets close to him, the soldier uses his weapon – ‘bangety bang, stabbity stab’.

Nothing happens!!

The enemy soldier simply knocks over our hero, and walks slowly over him.

The hero hears the enemy muttering…

‘Tankety tank… tankety tank’.



Featured Funny Short Story

Heaven’s Waiting Room

Heaven's Waiting Room - Norman had always imagined Heaven to be a place filled with pearly gates, golden streets, and angels strumming harps. But when he woke up after a rather unfortunate accident involving a banana peel and a flight of stairs, he found himself in what appeared to be a dimly lit bingo parlor.

Norman had always imagined Heaven to be a place filled with pearly gates, golden streets, and angels strumming harps. But when he woke up after a rather unfortunate accident involving a banana peel and a flight of stairs, he found himself in what appeared to be a dimly lit bingo parlor. The walls were a peculiar shade of mauve, and the air was thick with the scent of mothballs and old people. Norman scratched his head and looked around in disbelief.

“Am I in the right place?” he muttered to himself.

A kindly elderly lady sitting nearby, her bingo card scattered with chips, glanced over and gave him a sweet, toothless grin. “Oh, dearie, you must be new here. Welcome to Heaven’s Waiting Room!”

Norman blinked. Heaven’s Waiting Room looked remarkably like the run-down bingo halls he used to avoid back on Earth. The carpet was a confusing mix of patterns, and a flickering fluorescent light above buzzed annoyingly.

“But I thought Heaven would be, well, grander,” Norman mumbled, still trying to process this strange twist of fate.

The elderly lady patted the empty seat next to her. “Come on, dear. No use complaining. Might as well play a round of bingo while we wait for the big guy upstairs to call your name.”

Norman hesitated for a moment, then decided to take a seat. After all, what harm could a game of bingo do?

As he settled in, he noticed that everyone in the room was playing, but no one seemed to be winning. The numbers being called were as odd as the situation itself.

“B-47… I-22… G-3… W-99,” the announcer called out, his voice carrying a peculiar mix of authority and amusement.

Norman dabbed his card as the bizarre numbers kept coming. The other players seemed to be enjoying themselves, laughing and chatting with one another. The elderly lady beside him struck up a conversation.

“I’ve been waiting here for ages, you know,” she said with a wistful sigh. “I’ve never won a game, but it’s quite fun. It’s Heaven’s way of keeping us occupied until our turn to meet the boss.”

Norman nodded, still bewildered but starting to find the whole situation oddly charming. “So, what happens when someone finally wins?”

The elderly lady leaned closer, as if sharing a well-kept secret. “Oh, no one knows, dearie. Some say you get an extra scoop of angel food cake, others believe you get to meet the angels themselves. But it’s all just speculation. No one’s ever won.”

Norman chuckled at the absurdity of it all and focused on his card. The announcer continued with his nonsensical numbers, and Norman couldn’t help but laugh along with the rest of the room. It was strangely delightful, a far cry from what he had expected from the afterlife.

Hours passed, and Norman still hadn’t won a single game. But he didn’t mind. He was making friends, sharing stories, and having the time of his life in Heaven’s Waiting Room. It turned out that Heaven wasn’t just about grandeur and divine revelations; sometimes, it was about the simple joys of laughter and camaraderie.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Norman’s number was called. “N-12!” the announcer declared.

Norman jumped up in excitement, his heart racing. He shouted, “Bingo!”

The room fell into chaos. Old people, who had been peacefully dabbing their cards just moments before, now turned into feisty warriors. They yelled and pushed each other, fighting over Norman’s winning card.

The elderly lady beside him transformed into a bingo berserker, swinging her cane like a sword and yelling, “It’s mine, you hooligans!”

The announcer, now sweating profusely, tried to intervene, but his pleas were drowned out by the elderly bingo brawl. The numbers kept getting called, but nobody cared anymore. It was bingo Armageddon.

Norman couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. He watched as the chaos unfolded, thinking that perhaps Heaven’s Waiting Room was more entertaining than he had ever imagined.

Eventually, the angels had to step in to restore order. They separated the elderly combatants and retrieved Norman’s winning card.

“Congratulations, Norman,” one of the angels said, a bit out of breath. “You’ve won the rarest prize of all—a lifetime of chaos and laughter in Heaven.”

Norman grinned from ear to ear. As he surveyed the heavenly bingo parlor and the elderly bingo brawlers he’d unintentionally stirred up, he realized that Heaven was even zanier than a carnival fun house. And as luck would have it, his new job in the afterlife? He was Heaven’s newest bingo caller, tasked with keeping the chaos going. Norman couldn’t help but wonder if he’d taken a wrong turn at the pearly gates and really ended up in Hell.



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