Category Archives: Puns and Wordplay

DEBORAH WALKER: Love in Academia

“I wasn’t really expecting it to work.”
The door hangs off its broken hinges.

“I thought that she’d be so grateful.”
Elixir soaks into the discarded bandages.

“Why do women always leave me?”
The gilded sarcophagus is empty.

Tears are streaming down his face.
The professor really misses his mummy.


Deborah thinks: least said, soonest mended. Find her on her blog: Deborah Walker’s Bibliography.

TIM SEVENHUYSEN: Victor

Plop.

“Eat up!” said Mom.

Victor stared at his plate. Yuck. What was this slimy, moldy, mushy gunk?

“Don’t you like it?”

“Gross!” said Victor. “Is this rotten food?”

“It’s your winnings,” said Mom. “The ones you gloated about after Monopoly. Like you said, to the victor go the spoils!”


I’m happy to announce the birth of my second son, Victor! This story is for him.

JOHN H. DROMEY: True to Form

“I’m bored, Watson. I need something to investigate. Did anything of more than casual interest arrive in the post?”

“There’s a letter from Inland Revenue. They’re going to audit your tax return.”

“Why would they?”

“I’m a doctor, Holmes, not an accountant. My guess is you made too many deductions.”


John H. Dromey has had a short story published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, a mini-mystery in Woman’s World, plus fiction online at Liquid Imagination, Mysterical-E, and elsewhere.

CAROLINE SHAPIRO: Nerd

He smirked. “Well the principle don’t rule us here!”

“Huh?”

“You said you wouldn’t do it outta principle. I was making a joke.”

“Those words are spelled differently. The principal is your pal.”

“Mr. Jansen ain’t my pal.”

“No, it’s a mnemonic device, for remembering the spell–”

“Just smoke it!!!”


Caroline Shapiro is a writer and aspiring zookeeper living in Tucson, Arizona.

JOE MALONE: Kids Aren’t Mean

Children aren’t mean. Sometimes they just lack common sense.

For example, at the party I was in charge of the pinata. Finding one, hanging it up, getting some big sticks.

We were having a lot of fun until Mrs. Pinata from down the block showed up, looking for her kid.


Joe Malone is living in a mud hut in South Sudan. Read more from him at http://joem18b.wordpress.com/.

JOHN H DROMEY: Après-Ski

“What’s wrong with you, Shawn? You’ve spilled a drink on not just one, but four bobsledders.”

“Everything would have been fine if they’d just stood still.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because this lodge is furnished with valuable antiques, the barkeep made me promise to set my glass on a coaster.”


John H. Dromey has had a short story published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, a mini-mystery in Woman’s World, plus fiction online at Liquid ImaginationMysterical-E, and elsewhere.

JOHN B. SINCLAIR: Elf and Safety

Tom retired to Florida to play hopeless golf with wife Trish marking his scorecard.

In the Christmas tournament Tom swung and missed.

He swung again and the ball smacked into a tree then bounced back into the hole.

“What was that?” queried Trish.

“A par, Trish, and a pear tree.”


John B Sinclair is a much-travelled Scot who has now returned to Scotland, where he enjoys freelance writing on a variety of subjects.

GARY CLIFTON: Vital Information

“911, what is your emergency?”

“Screams coming from the house next door. Need police out here quick.”

“Do you know who lives there?”

“No, they just moved in.”

“Do you have an address?”

“No, I’m wearing shorts and a halter top. Is there a dress code for calling the cops?”


Gary Clifton, forty years a cop, has nearly 60 short fiction pieces published or pending with online sites. He has an M.S. from Abilene Christian University.

WENDY WHITE LEES: Once Upon a Flowerbed

I ran away with my prince to the forest.

“Stay the night with me,” he said, and laid me down on the forest floor. When we were done, I fell asleep shrouded in wildflowers.

When I woke up, he was gone. Now I no longer believe in happily heather rafters.


Wendy White Lees is a freelance writer and editor who still believes in fairy tale endings, even if she has to write them herself.

LYNLEA OPPIE: Bord Patrol

She fished the gem out of her belly button, popped it in her mouth, and swallowed.

“So predictable,” yawned the border guard.

“You know what happens next?” She smiled. “Now you have to get it the hard way.”

Just then, her little cough turned into a full-on choke.

“So predictable!”


Lynlea Oppie enjoys reading and writing flash fiction.