Category: Funny

Featured Funny Short Story

Tales from the Aisle: A Dog’s Hardware Adventures

In 'Tales from the Aisle,' A Dog's Hardware Adventures unfold – a heartwarming journey of a dog's rebellion, love, and unexpected humor.

Ever since I was a little boy, I dreamed of having a dog of my own. I loved dogs of all shapes and sizes, but I had a soft spot for chocolate labs. They were so adorable, with their brown fur, floppy ears, and sweet eyes. I imagined playing fetch with them, cuddling with them, and taking them for walks.

But my parents never let me have a dog. They said they were too much work, too expensive, and too messy. They said I had to wait until I was older and had my own place. So I waited, and waited, and waited.

Finally, when I was 25, I moved out of my parents’ house and bought a small house. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. And I could have all the pets I ever wanted. I was so excited. I started looking for chocolate lab puppies online, hoping to find one that needed a home.

I was lucky. I found an ad for a litter of chocolate lab puppies that were born on a farm nearby. The owner said they were healthy, vaccinated, and ready to go. He said he had one male left, and he was the cutest of the bunch. He sent me a picture, and I fell in love.

I drove to the farm the next day, eager to meet my new best friend. The owner greeted me and led me to a barn, where the puppies were playing. They were all adorable, but one stood out. He was the smallest but the most energetic. He ran up to me, licked my face, and wagged his tail. He looked at me with his big brown eyes, and I knew he was the one.

I picked him up and hugged him. He snuggled into my arms and made a happy sound. The owner smiled and said his name was Hershey because he looked like a candy bar. I thought it was a perfect name. I paid the owner, thanked him, and took Hershey to my car. He sat on my lap and looked out the window, curious about the world.

Hershey was a great dog. He was smart, loyal, and friendly. He learned how to sit, stay, fetch, and roll over in no time. He never barked at strangers, chewed on furniture, or ran away. He was always happy to see me, and he wagged his tail like crazy. He was my best friend, and I loved him more than anything.

There was only one problem. Hershey hated the hardware store.

I don’t know why, but every time I took him there, he would poop on the floor. And not just anywhere, but right in the middle of the main aisle. It was embarrassing, disgusting, and annoying. I had to apologize to the staff and clean up the mess, and I always walked out of there with my tail between my legs. Every single time.

I tried everything to stop him. I scolded him, praised him, bribed him, and ignored him. Nothing worked. He would poop on the floor as soon as we entered the store. He didn’t care about the other customers, the loud noises, or the weird smells. He just had to do his business.

It was a mystery to me. Hershey was fine everywhere else. He never pooped in the car, the park, the vet, or the pet store. He only did it at the hardware store. And always in the same spot.

One day, I decided to find out why. I took Hershey to the hardware store and waited for him to poop. As usual, he did it right away. As he was pooping, I looked around and noticed a plaque on the wall. It said:

“In memory of Bob Smith, who worked here for 25 years and hated every minute of it. Rest in peace, Bob.”

I was stunned. Could it be that Hershey was Bob’s reincarnation? Did he poop on the floor to express his resentment for his former job? Did he hate the hardware store as much as Bob did?

I decided to test my theory. I asked one of the staff members about Bob. He told me that Bob was an old man who worked as a cashier. He said Bob was always grumpy, rude, and lazy. He said Bob hated his job, his boss, his coworkers, and his customers. He said Bob died of a heart attack about a year ago, right in the middle of the main aisle.

I felt a chill. That was the exact spot where Hershey pooped. It was too much of a coincidence. Hershey had to be Bob’s reincarnation. He pooped on the floor to get back at his old boss, his old coworkers, and his old life. He was a rebel, a prankster, and a genius.

I decided to respect his wishes. I never took him to the hardware store again. I let him poop wherever he wanted, as long as it wasn’t in my house. I loved him for who he was, not who he used to be.

Hershey was a great dog. He was smart, loyal, and friendly. And he had a tremendous sense of humor.



Featured Funny Political

If The Government Can Do It

I went to the bank yesterday to withdraw $10,000.00. The bank teller said to me that I can’t withdraw that much money.

I asked why not.

The teller said that I only have $937 in my account.

I asked what does that matter.

The teller said you can’t withdraw $10,000.00 if you only have $937 in your account.

I said I don’t understand because the government is $34,000,000,000,000.00 in Debt, and it can still take out billions of dollars and give it to other countries even though the government doesn’t have the money.

The bank teller stated that the government can just print more money.

I said ok and left.

I went home and printed this and went back to the bank and gave them this bill and said I wanted all $100’s and two $50’s.

If the government can do it, so can I.

I went home and printed this and went back to the bank and gave them this bill and said I wanted all $100's and two $50's. If the government can do it, so can I.



Featured Funny Short Story

The Dog Did It: The Tale of Oscar, the Sneaky Dog, and a Blind Date Gone Wrong

Join the hilarity as Oscar, the stealthy dog, turns a blind date into a comedy of errors in 'The Dog Did It.' Uncover the tale of a sneaky canine and a date gone wrong!

Well, let me tell you about my dog, Oscar. Now, Oscar is a character—a real sneaky fella. You can’t hear him coming, I swear he’s got ninja training or something. He’s like a furry ghost, especially when it comes to snatching things he shouldn’t.

One fine evening, I had this blind date coming over. A real catch, mind you. But there’s a catch to the catch: she’s blind as a bat. Now, Oscar, being the opportunistic canine he is, decided this was the perfect time for a little adventure.

It all started innocently enough. The Christmas turkey was long gone, but the stuffing—oh, that golden stuffing—was still around. Oscar, with his stealth mode engaged, tiptoed his way to the kitchen. If he could have whistled, he would’ve, but that’s not in a dog’s repertoire.

He managed to swipe the entire Tupperware of stuffing without making a peep. I swear, I turned my back for a second, and it was gone. Poof! Vanished into thin air.

Now, here’s the kicker: Oscar, in his quest for gastronomic delight, devoured the whole thing. Every last morsel. Little did I know that he was turning into a walking gas chamber.

Back to the blind date—let’s call her Rita. So, Rita comes over, and we’re having a jolly good time. I’m making my best impression, cracking jokes, and trying not to spill anything on myself. Meanwhile, Oscar is lying low, plotting his next move.

The moment of truth arrives when Rita says she’s getting a bit warm. Innocently, I blame it on the heating, but the real heat was coming from Oscar’s back end. Silent but deadly—you know the drill.

The smell hits us like a freight train, and I’m trying to keep a straight face. Rita, being blind and all, looks at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. I, being the gentleman I am, took the fall for the ungodly stench.

I explain with a straight face that it’s just my quirky sense of humor. But Rita isn’t buying it. She insists that I must be joking and that there’s no way a person could produce such an odor. I’m desperately trying to convince her it’s the dog, but she’s having none of it.

Oscar, in the corner, looks at me with those guilty eyes. But Rita, being blind to his shenanigans, thinks I’m making up stories. In the end, I apologize, open a window, and try to salvage what’s left of the evening.

Lesson learned: never underestimate the stealth capabilities of a dog with a taste for Christmas stuffing. And if you ever find yourself in a similar predicament, well, good luck explaining it to someone who can’t see the evidence right under their nose—or, in this case, their nostrils.



Featured Funny Short Story

The Redneck Letter

Laugh-out-loud letter from a redneck mom. Hilarious updates on life in the new place, washing machine mysteries, and family antics. A must-read!

Dearest Redneck Son,

I’m writing this slow because I know you can’t read fast. We don’t live where we did when you left home. Your dad read in the newspaper that most accidents happen within 20 miles of your home, so we moved. I won’t be able to send you the address, because the last Arkansas family that lived here took the house numbers when they moved, so they wouldn’t have to change their address.

This place is really nice. It even has a washing machine. I’m not sure ’bout it. I put a load of clothes in and pulled the chain. We haven’t seen them since.

The weather isn’t bad here. It only rained twice last week; the first time for three days, and the second time for four days.

About that coat you wanted me to send; your Uncle Billy Bob decided it would be too heavy to send in the mail with the buttons on, so we cut them off and put them in the pockets.

Bubba locked his keys in the car yesterday. We were really worried, because it took him two hours to get me and your father out.

Your sister had a baby this morning, but I haven’t found out what it is yet; so I don’t know if you are an aunt or uncle. The baby looks just like your brother.

Uncle Bobby Ray fell into a whiskey vat last week. Some men tried to pull him out, but he fought them off and drowned. We had him cremated, and he burned for three days.

Three of your friends went off a bridge in a pickup truck. Butch was driving. He rolled down the window and swam to safety. Your other two friends were in the back. They drowned because they couldn’t get the tailgate down.

There isn’t much more news at this time. Nothing much out of the normal has happened.

‘Your favorite Aunt, Mom’



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.

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