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Discover weekly, the best short stories

Looking for a steady supply of funny short stories? Every week thousands of writers submit stories to our writing contest.

8610+ Funny Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. The world can get dreary and overwhelming, so when you’re looking to have a good laugh, take a scroll through our free collection of funny short stories.

Funny Short Stories – Page 2 of 574

Snow Gets in Your Hair

Submitted to Contest #298

Reese and Jockstrap ditched the bar for a drunk cigarette and argued over who took fault for having none; neither’d possessed them in the first place. Snow blanket, beer jacket, big green-sided highway bar with serious shit kicking speakers screaming solid vibration. Six stolen beers from the bathroom of the “Saloon” bulged out Reese’s pockets, made him look the part of a showy bodybuilder. Reese was convinced a hole in Jockstraps pocket was itself an admission of guilt. “If you were any semblance of a respectable lawyer,” slurred Reese, “y...

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Farmer's Market

Submitted to Contest #298

What the fuck even is a Farmer’s Market? I mean I understand the general concept, being that it’s quite literally in the name; but how is it different, really, than a regular grocery store? Don’t grocery stores buy their produce from farmers? I’d understand if the prices at the market were cheaper than at the grocery store—being that they are presumably coming directly from the farmers themselves—but I’m staring at a $2 Gala apple and wondering why I wouldn’t just walk across the street to the Whole Foods and get one for 73 cents. ‘But the l...

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Cupcake

Submitted to Contest #298

Cupcake Hot tea carefully placed to the right of my computer, flashes of lightning coming from the window behind me casting shadows, the room looks like a movie set. It was the perfect weather for writing; or a murder. Or both. I do live in New Orleans. The room was comfortably warm but not hot. One heater on in the front room gave a glow like a fireplace. It was cozy. I took a sip. I looked at the blank screen. I typed the date, then nothing. I knew I was on the precipice of bolting. Again. I was a bolter. Someone who can’t stay put. I w...

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The Fool and the Donkey Track V

Submitted to Contest #298

TRACK 5 - “For Isadora” - Lewis, Lynsi - The Album(TW - substance use, one sided relationship, mentions of grooming, internalized ableism)She’d been at the end of the impulse aisle, between rows of candies and energy drinks. The store’s jingle played overhead for probably the twentieth time over the six hours she’d been there. A week prior to that night, Lynsi spent the day doubled over, trying to hold back a cascade of wails that wouldn’t stop. Audacity ran on her laptop in front of her; still, she couldn’t stop the wails long enough to con...

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The Apology Tour that Never Was

Submitted to Contest #298

It gets exhausting, this compulsion to apologize for every stupid thing that comes out of my mouth. Okay, maybe not stupid—more like thoughtless. It seems that no matter what I say, or how gently I try to couch my words in an uplifting tone, I manage to offend, annoy or generally piss people off.My efforts at keeping my thoughts to myself, or at least severely toning them down for general consumption, are failing miserably. It seems that every other word out of my mouth is some epically failed attempt to make nice. It might be time to accept...

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Bertram Fuller's School for Sea People

Submitted to Contest #298

Bertram Fuller refused to teach civics. He saw no need for it. The sea people had no need for government or governing. When Fuller showed up that fateful July morning shortly after dawn, they thought he was a god. A lesser god, yes, but still a god. A god given to them by the sea. Fuller was wearing his customary sea travel uniform--velvet shorts, a white shirt modeled after the architectural leisurewear that was all the rage in Paris, and a very small hat. He had been looking for the Isle of Dove, but the rough waters and unpredictable curr...

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Theria's Lace

Winner of Contest #298 🏆

Reagan Theriault stepped back from her easel, paintbrush tucked between her lips, studying the swirl of blacks and greens on the canvas. To others, it was just another ode to mold—but to her, it was beauty. She leaned in, adding a hint of iridescence with a fine brush dipped in cobalt teal and titanium white. Her studio smelled of oil paint and damp earth, kept at 78% humidity for what she called “atmospheric authenticity”—awful for electronics, perfect for art.Reagan had always gravitated toward the overlooked. As a child, she collected dea...

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SPAAZZ

Submitted to Contest #298

Prompted by a prompt for a short story about an 'unlikely friendship' I drew again on a real moment of my life. I have newspaper articles attesting to this having happened. If anyone would like to see one, just let me know.First, allow me to introduce the person with whom I shared this ‘unlikely friendship.’ Zsa Zsa Gabor.Zsa Zsa appeared in several mostly B-type films always playing the not-so-bright materialistic seductress which, for her, required little acting skill. Because that's what she was. In real life she'd been married nine ti...

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Ree in the Real Life

Submitted to Contest #298

The humidity in the air drew out the smell of pee and death from the carpet in the hallway, and Ree had had enough. She’d been syphoning off small bills from the purses of her daughter, granddaughter, and even her great-granddaughter’s best friend when they turned their backs during their bi-weekly visits and, to date, there was $98 stashed away in the breast pocket of her blue suit dress. She chose it because, if she happened to die before she got the chance to spend it, it’d go to the grave with her. (She’d earned it, after all, hadn’t she...

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The Catfood Chronicles

Submitted to Contest #298

If you’ve never spooned lukewarm tuna casserole from a can labeled ‘Feline Fancy: Ocean Dreams,’ then congratulations—you still have your dignity. Mine vacated the premises approximately two years ago, right around the time HR’s perky twentysomething “transition specialist” explained that my thirty-two years of programming experience had become “legacy knowledge” and that the company was “pivoting toward fresh perspectives.”Fresh perspectives, by the way, meant Kyle—a cheerful intern who wore beanies indoors and used phrases like “vibe check...

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Revenge: A Story of Modern Heartbreak

Submitted to Contest #298

TW: Alcohol, sex, teenage maniaI hexed my first boyfriend when I was seventeen. Although we hadn’t had sex by the time we broke up, I was still madly in love with him. So when it happened, I found myself more hurt than I’d ever been. The day he left me, we were supposed to speed around the back country roads to thrift shops, bookstores, and estate sales. Afterward, I’d drive us back to his place (he didn’t have a license), where we could make out and feel each other up, like we always had. But that day, he had something different in mind. My...

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Fling

Submitted to Contest #298

Agnes went peacefully in her sleep. Her roommate at the Tate Senior Community Center, Rose called the front desk to inform the staff of Agnes’ passing. Even though Rose was not a close friend of Agnes since she had been admitted only three weeks before, the thought of having a deceased person in her room was distressing. “Rose, why don’t you go to breakfast in the cafeteria while we take care of Agnes.” Nurse Wendy suggested as she rested her hand on Rose’s arm.“Alright.” Rose closed her eyes and nodded compliantly. Rose made her way down ...

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You Can't Park There

Submitted to Contest #298

Cynthia hears him before she sees him, his clompy old boots unmistakable, stomping angrily up the garden path. She had been lost in thought, hands deep in warm, bubbly, lemon-scented washing up, thinking about making some kind of crumble for dessert tonight. A bit luxurious just for the two of them but she has apples that want using and after all, why shouldn’t they have a nice treat every now and then? The door bangs open, shaking the little curtain she had sewn by hand to fit perfectly over the windowpane.‘Unbelievable!’ Harold booms, stor...

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A Matter of Perspective

Submitted to Contest #298

"You want me to eat what part of the snail?" Marcus's voice carried across the outdoor Parisian café, causing several heads to turn. Cherry blossoms floated down around him like pink snowflakes.The waiter sighed with the practiced patience of someone who'd explained escargot to Americans a thousand times. "The entire body, monsieur. It is already removed from the shell and prepared with garlic butter. It is spring—the season for trying new delicacies.""Where I'm from, we spray those things with poison," Marcus muttered, poking the gastropod ...

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Grass Grows Greener in the Graveyard

Submitted to Contest #298

Trigger warning: talking about death The graveyard looked quite nice for, well, a graveyard. The grass was finally starting to grow in and turn the earth from its dull yellow to something that wasn’t so depressing. Since the spring flowers grew along with the grass the graves were starting to become more colorful; bouquets sat near them instead of cheap plastic memorial pieces and deflated balloons. I had gotten there early so I could sit and watch the fog lift from the rolling hills. I hadn’t made a habit of coming to Woodb...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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