“Ok, let’s work on your quick, short punches and your wordplay. You’re going to be the best boxing comedian there’s ever been!”
Gurpreet paused. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not sure I can ever be stronger and wittier than Youssef.”
“Nonsense,” cried his trainer. “He’s good, but you’re Punjabi.”
If you don’t get it, leave a comment!
“Thanks, Chet.
“I never expected to broadcast from a place like this! I’m standing amid chaos, and I can’t help but wonder if we, as a nation, have made a mistake in creating this Ministry of Wordplay.
“I’ve been dodging portmanteaus and malapropisms all afternoon! It’s complete pundemonium in here!”
“Surely, Doctor, there must be something you can try. Please!”
“I’m afraid all we can do is make you comfortable, my dear. Although…”
“What is it? Tell me!”
“Well, it’s a long shot, but you know what they say about laughter.”
“That it’s the best medicine?”
“Exactly! It’s a punacea!”
James approached the plate nervously. The pitcher was dripping in the heat.
Previous attempts had excited the audience, but they were foul.
Four pitchers and ten full Counts later, James was crowned grand champion. He just barely made it home safe from the Royal Count’s Eating Contest before throwing up.
Charlie Dunn is a college student studying abroad in Japan. He wrote this story during his daily commute. (Ed. That’s the beauty of microfiction, eh?)
The summer sun shone down bright and hot on a highway filled with impatient, upset drivers.
Horns were blaring as frustrated police officers tried to direct traffic through a single open lane.
The driver of the overturned Smuckers tanker truck sat on the ground in handcuffs, chuckling softly to himself.
“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night!”
“Get off the stage!”
“What, you wanna start something?”
“That’s right! Fight me, funny man!”
They fought. The comedian won.
“Go ahead,” said the heckler. “Make a joke at my expense.”
The comedian shrugged. “I don’t want to ruin the punchline.”
Editor’s Note: This story originally resulted in the police breaking up the fight, but I decided that using that ending would be too much of a cop-out.
Time passes slowly in a vacuum. Everything is still and silent. You are surrounded by nothingness. It is, unsurprisingly, difficult to breathe.
Boredom, depression, hunger, and asphyxiation vie for power over you, fighting to see which will kill you first.
One should avoid living in a vacuum. Hoovers especially suck.