#funny

4880 posts
  • sandesh17 1h

    Deep Knowledge

    In Today's World
    Everyone loves
    Quick Charger
    & Long Cable

    ©sandesh17

  • willgosling 3h

    A Song By Pete

    If you remember, there was a single sheet of paper stolen by Helzik Frinkle from the safe of Pete Rittannia. If you do not remember, check out my short story "Helzik Frinkle" and this might make a little more sense. For this is what was on that piece of paper:


    TO WHOM I OWE AN ERLING

    Once, a way down this road, I
    had nowhere to be, no,
    I haven't eaten much so I'm quite bony.
    Once, a way down this road.

    He was a big big guy,
    but I thought that I was faster,
    running to hide from him some place I knew before this disaster.
    There are several skills which I don't have but I wish I'd mastered.
    Why did I bet away my final erling against that bastard.

    Once, a way down this road, I
    was running from the city, maybe
    I should'a just taken a horse like Uncle Roney.
    Once, a way down this road.

    I've never been that smart;
    counting cards is not my strong suit,
    but when you're desperate you'd sell a limb to buy a small piece of fruit,
    and then pretend to be mute,
    or thieve another thief's loot,
    and turn your erlings into more betting on the losing race newt.

    Once, a way down this road, I
    should get a normal Job, and
    hide from everyone who knows me.
    Once, a way down this road.

    Now it's twelve years on,
    growing a business in the city.
    Taking money from the people who looked down at me with pity.
    But I have one regret:
    I never paid those I owed,
    but I can't remember who I bet against or from whom I borrowed.

    Now a fair way down this road, I
    have a lot of gold, but I
    don't know to whom I owe an erling.
    Nearing the end of this road.

    Right at the end of this road, my
    Story has been told, my
    Song will be known across the country.
    I've reached the end of my road.

    Signed: Pete Rittannia
    ©willgosling

  • a_puzzled_traveller 6h

    Ohh...
    Hello Owner!!!
    As you know, I am preparing for UPSC.
    So I want you to translate this books in 'meow' language for me.
    I hope you don't mind.
    If you have one.

    -ANU
    ©a_puzzled_traveller

  • willgosling 20h

    Frogle Popplegood Part 2

    Today was the day Frogle would fight back, or at least begin his plans to that effect. Phase one was to be a scouting mission. When Mr Tennenwald had gone to lunch, as he always did, at one o'clock exactly, not to return before at least half past three, Frogle closed the shop and entered the back room. He walked swiftly towards the huge, darkly stained pine desk, sat on the oversized wingback chair and lifted the desk lamp, extracting a small brass key. Mr Tennenwald had clearly thought Frogle would not dare to come in here unsupervised, and he certainly would not dare to touch the hidden key. There was not an iota of doubt in Mr Tennenwald's mind which believed that Frogle could possibly use the key. Maybe he might put it in the lock, just maybe, but hell would freeze over, get taken to another world, sink into that world's ocean, fossilise into the shape of a penguin and reform itself over the course of four months into heaven, before Frogle could even dream of turning the key.
    The lock clicked, Frogle pulled out the drawer and emptied the contents onto the desktop. He read the bold writing on the topmost piece of paper which stated in capital letters:
    TAXES OVERDUE. PAY BY THE END OF THIS WORKING WEEK OR YOUR SHOP WILL BE CLOSED DOWN.
    Frogle put it neatly to the side and picked up a small deep red card with golden writing which read:


    I have been Missy. Please call again. You know where to find me.


    Having placed this on top of the overdue tax note, and several others like it, an envelope was uncovered. It was addressed to Frogle. He stared at the small, neat writing on the front for some time before separating the already torn opening and slipping out the thick parchment within. Navy blue ink in the same neat handwriting as on the envelope, spelt out the words:


    Dear Frogle Popplegood,

    We would like to invite you to our open day on Tuesday 23rd February at St. Lemmink's College.
    As I'm sure you know, St. Lemmink's is an invite-only school, providing nothing but the very best education in all fields.

    Our Secretary of Dimensions informs us you have an unmatched knack for selling. It is in light of this that, as well as an invite to the open day, we formally invite you to join our ranks.
    We advise you to bring a spare change of clothes.

    Warmest regards,

    Best wishes,

    Sincerely,

    Looking forward to meeting you,

    Tom Bunni,
    Vice Principal of English,
    St. Lemmink's College.


    Frogle's mouth remained open for the second and third read through. Then his jaw clenched into a snarl. How could Mr Tennenwald keep this from him? After everything Frogle had done for Mr Tennenwald, everything he had put up with. It made no sense. The beating and the screaming and the humiliating, why would Mr Tennenwald torture him if he was worried Frogle might go elsewhere? Then he remembered the key under the lamp. Mr Tennenwald was an idiot, Frogle thought. He was a moron with more money than brain cells and the money kept coming in. While Frogle was around, Mr Tennenwald got richer. While Frogle worked all hours, Mr Tennenwald spent less and less time with his family, apparently spending more and more time with seedy, back-alley call girls.
    By the time Frogle's mind had come to the conclusion he would be quitting Harry's Piano Tunas without so much as a note to let Mr Tennenwald know, he was already walking into the shop front, where Mr Tennenwald stood. At first, Frogle didn't recognise the rage-twisted face; never had it been this dark a shade of red, nor had it ever seemed so deranged. Then the dark eyes saw the letter, still clutched in Frogle's hand, and an explosion happened. Heavy brass instruments flew at Frogle, making terrifying sounds which mingled with Mr Tennenwald's unintelligible shrieks as they crashed around the motionless shop assistant. Then came the howling woodwind instruments, the clarinets thrown like spears. Then the strings section screamed as they shattered violently before him. Frogle, although he had not moved a muscle, found himself entirely unharmed. He hadn't begun to comprehend the chances of so many near misses when a slightly unnerving tranquillity came over him. This was followed by a very unnerving tranquillity as though he was being forced to relax. He sat down. Then he crossed his arms and closed his eyes. He felt air movements around his head as large objects narrowly missed him but even the sound was dulled now, as though far away, muffled behind a duvet.
    Suddenly, a very small, delicate hand touched Frogle's shoulder. He followed it upwards as it moved away from him and grasped it with his own without intending to. Moments later, he strolled down a street he had never seen before with a young woman whom he thought he recognised. She smiled at him, and he knew it would have been a soft smile if he could have touched it. Her pale grey eyes shone.
    "Are you from St. Lemmink's College?" Frogle asked, somehow knowing the answer before he'd started to mouth the question.
    "I am," said the woman.
    "Is that where we're going?" Again, he already knew the answer.
    "You are."
    "You're not?"
    "I'm not."
    "You saved me?"
    "I did."
    "Er... is Mr Tennenwald alright?"
    "He will be."
    "I don't know if that makes me happy or sad... why aren't you coming to the college?"
    The grey eyed woman looked at Frogle, then back to the street ahead, giving no answer, and he knew that one would not come. A sudden realisation hit him then and a genuine anxiety bubbled up from somewhere in his chest.
    "Uh.." he muttered quietly, "Could... could we go via my house? Only... I've not got... uh... a spare change of clothes..."
    Pale grey eyes beamed at him, and they continued towards the college.

    ©willgosling

  • willgosling 20h

    Frogle Popplegood Part 1

    Mr Tennenwald, the shop keeper from number twenty two Pennybark Lane was rather pleased with his new assistant. Sure, he made a hash of the displays, frequently mixed up customer orders and rarely showed up to work wearing both shoes, but he was cheap and he had an extraordinary flare with awful puns. He was also very cheap. Verrry cheap. Sometimes Mr Tennenwald felt somewhat guilty about just how little he was paying the boy, but at such times he always remembered that the assistant was just so incredibly cheap and the guilt dissolved in the glee.
    The shop assistant was named Frogle after his father and also, by a happy coincidence, after his mother, who Frogle Junior very swiftly learned was a hag. At least, that was what passers by had always shouted at her in the street.

    Frogle wandered back and forth in front of the shop shouting today's awful puns and waving at potential customers, beckoning them closer.
    "Any instrument bought, sold or tuned!" he yelled at them, "Live in a house but your piano's in 'A flat'? Got a tuber with a tumour? A flute with no toot? A violent violin? A drum with no snare? Wanna have a go on an oboe? Fiddle with a fiddle? There's a sale in our woodwind section - we're clarinet out! Come on in to Harry's Piano Tunas today!"
    Frogle's gaze dropped to stare into the pale grey eyes of a young woman who had apparently been lured in by his technique.
    "Good evenin', Ma'm!" he blurted out with what seemed to be genuine cheerfulness, "How can I help you today?"
    The young woman smiled but said nothing. There seemed to be no malice in her stare, and it did not make Frogle uncomfortable at all, but there was something which seemed a little odd. Something he could not put his finger on. It was like the memory of a familiar face, you can almost picture it in your mind but the harder you try the more it fades.
    This continued for what could have been hours, or could have been seconds, before the young woman turned into a throng of passing people, and was gone.
    Frogle immediately forgot her and continued his chanting.

    Several months came, went, then came again and Mr Tennenwald had never seen so much money come into his shop. This made him very happy or at least that is what he would tell you if you would listen. However, Mr Tennenwald's scale of happiness ran from negative five to positive five with none of the numbers between. So he was either averagely happy while he counted his money, or he was intensely miserable when he was forced to do other things like take his young children for a nice day in the park or have a meal with his beautiful wife.
    Frogle, although he was the sole reason for Mr Tennenwald's wealth, was frequently on the receiving end of Mr Tennenwald's negative five temper. He was beaten at least once a day, never for any reason Frogle could understand and screamed at the rest of the day; everything was Frogle's fault. He did not mind the beatings or the screaming so much as he was a tough young man of seventeen now, and jobs were hard to come by in Kranf City. He did however mind the humiliations. In fact, it would be fair to say, he minded the humiliations very much. Most recently, Frogle had been moments away from closing the sale of an unreasonably expensive violin to a pretty young girl from the private school on the far side of the city, when Mr Tennenwald had appeared from nowhere.
    "Thought you'd slack off did you?" he sneered, a disgusting satisfaction warping his grin, "Thought you'd court this one?" he threw an arm in the general direction of the girl, "Well perhaps she'd like to know your little secret? Eh? What do you think? Perhaps she'd better be informed of your unfortunate... ahem... growth... in the trouser department. Yes. I mean I suppose I'm doing you both a favour really. Better she find out now, from me, before she finds out down the line and breaks both of your hearts. No need to thank me." He disappeared into the back room leaving Frogle spluttering to the girl about how it was complete nonsense, to no avail.
    This had been the most recent of what felt like a lifetime of bullying. This was also the final straw. It was, in fact, the feather that burst the cushion.

    ...continued in part 2...

    ©willgosling

  • nitsuj 1d

    When life gives you lemons, you gotta make a squeeze out of it so it will turn juicy.
    ©nitsuj

  • willgosling 1d

    Helzik Frinkle

    Helzik Frinkle's arm and ankle ached. He swung slowly, back, forth and side to side, sometimes in circles, as the dark city streets rapidly scrolled by below him. His arm ached because moments earlier, the part of the plan which had him resting in a comfortable leather sling for the late night journey, failed. It was only his quick reactions, born from a lifetime of thievery, that allowed said lifetime to continue at all. Although, it has to be said, probably with one fewer limbs or maybe, if he was lucky, he would lose only a hand. Halving his total number of hands, he thought ponderously, could have certain benefits. But, although schemes swam to the front of Helzik's head of fake-hand related cons, his cheery outlook momentarily failed him as the itchy hemp rope tightened around his forearm.

    The plan was several months in the making, the whole thing entirely his own thanks to Helzik's crippling trust issues. It began with a balloon built from scratch, Helzik's sewing skills now quite impressive after months of practice. The balloon was stitched from jet black, non-reflective fabric stolen, piece by piece, from Ol' Jerry's Tailorin' Supplies. The resulting mound of material was coated in a rubber glue from Shoe's & Socks, again stolen. Once the glue had set, a leather sling was added to the short length of hemp rope from which he now hung. The leather sling he'd had from Run 'n' Hide, the tanning specialists, and no, the sling was not stolen; Helzik Frinkle broke with tradition, just this once, to ensure a little luxury. After all, he would be in the air for some time, he might as well be as comfortable as possible. Run 'n' Hide would be getting one of Helzik's famous, harshly worded letters when all this was over, that was for sure.

    Finally completed, the balloon was filled with hot air generated by the large blue flame coming from the gas bottle on Helzik's lap. This was mildly dangerous, yes, with no valve to control the flow of the flammable gas, his only option was to hold on for dear life until the balloon lifted, then chuck the bottle. Fortunately, he suffered only minor burns to his left ankle as the flame plummeted away.

    It was not long after, that a joint in the sling came undone, swiftly followed by several others. Helzik wrapped his arm around the rope and grabbed hold until his strength failed him and left him dangling for a minute or so before the rather beautiful, ornate weather vane atop the church's highest peak caught hold of his burnt ankle. The balloon, taking instruction from nobody but the god of wind, continued onwards, probably snapping Helzik's arm and causing his shoe to be ripped from his foot along with a fair amount of skin.

    Luck had always been on his side, Helzik thought with an enormous grin on his sweating face. I mean, the chances of getting a foot unstuck without even twisting your ankle, never mind breaking it, were slimmer than Helzik could calculate, though he spent the next couple of minutes trying.

    It wasn't until the wide pale roof of Pete's Bank came into view, that Helzik sprang into action. He pulled a short knife from its sheath at his side and carefully reached up to the hemp rope, cutting into it slightly in preparation. With perfect timing, he cut through the rope, fell ten feet to the roof, landed awkwardly on his left ankle and heard the all too familiar crack of breaking bone.

    Thanking The Lady of Chance for the fortuitous non-breaking of his right ankle, Helzik crawled to the iron drainpipe which he knew to lead past Pete Rittannia, the owner of the bank's, office. Thin L-shaped iron brackets held the gutter to the edge of the roof. These made perfect splints, one for each side of his left foot, bound together with strands from the rope.

    Joy bubbled from Helzik's body, turning into laughter somewhere along the way; he could not believe this was going so well. His plans always worked, of course, but frequently with more terrible consequences. Once, he had broken his jaw, dislocated his shoulder, lost the fingernails from his right hand, lost a bet and stubbed his toe, all on a single job.

    He beamed at the city as he swung his legs over the edge and descended down the iron pipe one-handed to Pete's office window. Here he stopped to withdraw a tiny beetle from his waistcoat pocket and placed it on the glass. At once, the insect lowered its mandibles and began to walk in a large circle, scoring the surface as it went until the tiny scratching noise changed pitch slightly. Then, apparently knowing exactly what it was doing, the beetle walked into the centre of the circle, clamped down with all six legs and its jaws, then unfurled its wings and flapped frantically. There was a small "shink" sound and the circle of glass flew off into the night with the beetle.

    Moments later, Helzik crouched on the office floor in front of a safe, having only sliced one rusty wound into his thigh on an unnoticed nail protruding from the outer window ledge. The safe was a Durbang & Finn 1507 Kronnensuche, a model which Helzik had become intimately accustomed to over the years. Well known as the hardest safe to crack in the world, it was heavily favoured by those who wanted something protecting from thieves. Equally, being so hard to crack, almost every thief worth his pepper learned to crack safes on a Durbang & Finn 1507 Kronnensuche; if they could crack that, they could crack anything.

    Helzik had the safe open in a matter of three hours and twenty two minutes. This time was a personal best and required acknowledgement through the medium of dance. Singing would usually also be required by the formal laws of thievery but the mitigating circumstances in this case were quite clear, allowing Helzik to forgo that part of the ritual, though he would be sure to complete it later.

    Dancing done, Helzik withdrew the three things which the safe contained: a strange golden spoon, a photograph of what appeared to be an octopus and a filing cabinet insert containing a single piece of A4. This probably had writing on, but Helzik had absolutely no need of knowing whether or not it did, and if it did, what was written on it. He knew everything about the piece of paper that he needed to. He knew who would pay over two thousand erlings for it and that was a lot. It was more than the thief had ever had, or even seen in one place. It was enough to replace the gully beetle he used to cut the glass. It was enough to pay his medical bills once he had his ankle and arm fixed. It might have even been enough to make the final payment on the leather sling to Run 'n' Hide if he decided to pay them, but probably not. Helzik Frinkle was not into thievery for the profits. He was in it for the excitement, that hot electric sensation he felt when a plan worked and sometimes, even when it didn't. As long as he stayed free from the city jails, he would continue to wear a grin of contentment.

    "Good evening, Mr Frinkle," said a sudden, slow, deliberate voice from the corner of the room, "I think I would quite like you to return that to the safe if you wouldn't mind?"

    Helzik heard only the "good" before his reactions threw him head first through the hole in the window and before his mind even had chance to fully understand the danger. He had always reacted this way to sudden peril. There was no "fight or flight" response, as he had already flown before any alternatives could be thought up.

    Two nights later, in a flat above the Gaggle of Cats Inn, the sleeping form of Helzik Frinkle lay smiling. A vet stood over him, checking various instruments scattered about the filthy room, sometimes poking Helzik with one of them and analysing the reading.

    Helzik was completely covered in bandages. Luckily, there had been a pile of sharp iron filings which had been dumped in the street below the window of the office of Pete Rittannia. This cushioned Helzik's two storey fall beautifully. However, he was left with very little skin on the front of his torso, legs, arms and face. The vet spent day and night soaking and redressing the wounds, but still thought it unlikely that the bloody body would recover without several infections along the way. He told the now awake Helzik this, to which the response was a huge grin, and a gurgling rendition of the song: "To Whom Do I Owe An Erling?"

    Halfway through the chorus, which by this point was more bubbling throat noises than words, Helzik passed out from the pain, still beaming unconsciously at the ceiling.

    ©willgosling

  • muntahakhan 1d

    WHEN YOU CRY AND WIPE OUT ALL THE WORRIES AND ALL THE DEPRESSION FROM YOUR MIND THEN YOU FEEL LIGHT AND RELAX SO DONOT OVERTHINK EVERY SMALL THING OR MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE LET IT BE AND GO WITH THE FLOW BECAUSE IF YOU RESIST THEN THIS WORLD TEAR YOU APART
    ©muntahakhan

  • muntahakhan 1d

    YAKEEN RAKHNY WALOON K LIYE MOUJZAY HOTAY HAIN
    ©muntahakhan

  • malhar_ 1d

    क्या गुंडा बनेगा रे तू बाबा....��
    #funny
    #mirakee

    Read More

    How to make maggi
    in just 2 min...

    Wala video bhi 10 min ka hai.

    ©malhar_

  • muntahakhan 1d

    "SOULMATE"
    SOME ONE WHOM WE LOVE MORE THAN OURSELVES
    ©muntahakhan

  • muntahakhan 1d

    WE DON'T USE MAKEUP TO HIDE ANYTHING
    WE USE MAKEUP TO BE A GIRL THAT WE ADORE
    ©muntahakhan

  • raahibastariya 2d

    HORROR

    थी आंखे उसकी सुर्ख लाल
    वाह - वाह आे बेबी क्या कमाल
    देखे जो उसके उल्टे पांव
    तो हुआ बवाल
    भागे दौड़े
    बचे बाल - बाल
    ©raahibastariya

  • darshpanchal 2d

    DARE TO FAIL

    Makes you strong and,
    Lifts you up....
    ©darshpanchal

  • lifeonweb 2d

    Isn't it funny how

    We fuck our lives up
    In the process of making it better
    ©lifeonweb

  • pika_chu 2d

    TUM agar aaye hayee karo to,
    Taarif
    Aur,
    Hum kare to HiJde....

  • wajju_ali 3d

    Jo bakrid me thami, fir na jaane kab shuru hogi.!!
    Wo ek shai jise hum DIETING kehte hain... !!!
    ©wajju_ali

  • lifeonweb 3d

    Boy - Give me the rent.


    Girl - What??? Why?


    Boy - because you live in my heart.
    ©lifeonweb

  • malhar_ 3d

    बस ऐसे ही...
    क्या पता कल IAS के
    पेपर मे आ जाये।।
    ��
    #funny
    #mirakee

    Read More

    Bhai ye 'long distance relationship'
    Kitne Km tak valid hai?

    ©malhar_

  • drimran 4d

    Whenever I try to fall in love with books then My phone always proposes me.
    ©drimran