You can submit it as poetry. Just note somewhere that it's to the tune of something.

Tales of Tomfoolery
Username: Wings of Writing
Word count: 453
Entry: Everyone knows the shoes sitting lonely and abandoned on the side of a highway. We’ve all wondered their stories. Well here is the story of one particular shoe. This shoe is a white high heel, with flowery patterns adorning its sides. This shoe has no typical story; it’s been on an adventure great than the imagination. It is best worn by a delicate lady, but it’s time frame is wrong, this is no shoe of 2010. It’s far older than that and far more special. This shoe’s been on a journey since it left the tiny feet of its owner. No longer does it wander great stone corridors, now it sits lonely and lost on cold concrete. No longer does its beauty and grace amaze, instead all it sees are wrinkled noses and wondering looks. No longer is it loved for its prestigious owner, instead it is garbage never to be touched. No, ever since it entered that portal it has not been loved. For it has left its time and entered our own. And as the shoe sits on the side of the road it laments, “I’m used to hallowed halls and great grand banquets, the swish of dresses about my flowery outsides.” The shoe sighs softly, “I was loved and admired, one of my mistress’s favorite two. So why do I sit here now alone and abandoned; what are these strange boxes that go zooming by with creatures like my mistress trapped inside. Why do they wrinkle in disgust?” The shoe’s voice is clearly distressed and confused, it continued, “I’m one of the finest shoes ever made; I’m to be respected for my artmanship. I am not to cause disgust.” Then with a cry of anguish, the shoe screamed, as loud as it’s little shoe voice could, “What is this cold stuff lying beneath me, why is it so cold and why so rough? Where is my brother, why am I here alone? Why, me? Why, then? My mistress needed me so!” The shoe would have had tears pouring from his eyes, if it had eyes to cry from, “What was that flash that carried me here and left me, oh, so alone? Has it taken my brother as well? Oh how my mistress will distress, how can she make wise decisions without me caressing her feet? She must be missing me so! I miss her, I miss my brother, oh I miss my home!” The shoe sat on the side of the road laying on one side as it lamented its loss, pining for his mistress before finally whispering, “I want to go home…” but the shoe could never return and would lie forever on the side of the road.

I'm working on something, I hope you get the humour :'D

If I can manage soemthing by this evening, I'll have an entry! After that I'll probably not have enough time to write a story up. :lol:

Yeeeessssss!!!!! I've got a new story written!

Tales of Tomfoolery
Username: TaiyoTsuki
Word count: 997
Entry: The Endless Pranks (and the one that went wrong!)

It’s the year 2443, and Earth has reached the stars. But if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed among humans, it’s this; pranks. Especially aboard the USS Lemnos. Its main problem? Lieutenant Commanders Elroy Banks, Chris Yrgyren, and Benjamin Fergusson. Every Halloween the pranks fly between those three.

Including this one.

“BEN!!!” Elroy shouted. “What the hell’s this?!” he came running into the break room from the head, soaked.

Benjamin looked up from his book. “What’re you talking about?” he asked, grinning.

Elroy glared at him. “Like you don’t know.” He growled. He pointed to his soaked uniform. “I didn’t need a shower when I flushed the toilet.”

Chris snickered. Benjamin’s grin widened, trying not to laugh. “Sorry dude,” he said, “I meant that prank for this guy—” he pointed to Chris, “—but it didn’t pan out right.”

“‘Didn’t pan out right’ my ass,” Elroy replied. “I’ll get you for this.” And he stalked out of the room.

Benjamin smiled, taking another gulp of his coffee. I love Halloween, he thought.

Later that night, when they were all finally off-duty, Benjamin entered his quarters, hoping to crash on his rack. Problem was his rack wasn’t there. When he turned on the lights, his rack had been replaced by a sign:


Benjamin groaned. Great. Now I’ve gotta bribe Elroy to give me my mattress back. He thought.



Chris tinkered away on the computer. This Halloween, he was gonna make Benjamin and Elroy hate him.

Once I’m done, the food replicators in their rooms will give them their food all right…in their faces! He thought, laughing at the idea. He made the final “improvements” on the programming before exiting. He ejected the data card from its panel. “Ben really shouldn’t have made these for Elroy and me,” he said to himself, “but I guess it was a good thing to have a level playing field. If not, these ‘prank wars’ wouldn’t be as fun.”

Of course, he was unaware of the pranks Elroy and Benjamin had set for him the next day.



“I’M GONNA KILL THOSE TWO!!!” Chris yelled as he ran top speed to CIC. “I’m late thanks to them! The exec’s gonna kill me!”

“Bout time you got here, Yrgyren.” The exec, Commander Marshall Ren, said when Chris entered the room and relieved the sleep-deprived ensign.

“Sorry sir,” he replied. “Reveille didn’t sound in my quarters.”

CMDR Ren gave Chris a funny look. “How the—wait, never mind.” He said. “Let me guess; Halloween pranks?”

Chris didn’t have to answer; his pants did for him. As he sat down, his pants split open with a rip. The normal chatter in CIC stopped immediately as all eyes looked toward him.

“Mister Yrgyren,” Ren said, “You might want to check your clothing replicator.”

Chris didn’t turn his head. “No problem, sir.” He said, inwardly cursing Elroy and Benjamin.



BRRRAAAAPPPPPP!

Elroy face palmed. The random whoopee cushion had returned. I’m gonna kill Chris. He thought.

“Mister Banks,” the Captain, Kevin Lawrence, said exasperatedly, “please tell me that you and Misters Yrgyren and Fergusson aren’t having another prank war.”

Elroy pulled the whoopee cushion out from under his butt. “Sorry sir,” he sighed. He held the deflated cushion up between his thumb and forefinger.

Revenge tomorrow night is gonna be sweet.



Benjamin hummed to himself in the rec room. October 31st had come at last. Ever since the previous morning, everything he ordered from the food replicator in his quarters had ended up in his face.

He put the finishing touches on his latest prank gadget; a device that flung pies at whoever happened to walk past its wall panel. Thankfully, the crew members had learned long ago to stay away from the rec room on Halloween night.

I’ve already been hit with the random whoopee cushion four times today, Benjamin thought as he slipped his mask on. It was a glow-in-the-dark Grim Reaper mask; perfect for his costume. “I hope Chris and Elroy like pie…”

He wasn’t the only one in the room; Elroy Banks was hiding under the table, done up in a ghost samurai getup; complete with fake katana. Yeah. Except for one thing; Chris is gonna be the only one covered in pie and scared out of his wits. He thought, suppressing a laugh.

The doors swished open, the two went to their hiding places; Benjamin to the closet and Elroy pulled his head back under the table.



Chris entered the rec room. It was empty, as usual. He whistled to himself as he set up several small holographic projectors, all programmed to emit life-sized, 3-D zombie holograms. Ben and Elroy are gonna hate me after this, he thought. The projectors were motion-activated, meaning that the next person to enter the room was going to be scared out of their wits.

Chris was done up as the murderer from "Texas Chainsaw Cheerleader Massacre", including a fake chainsaw that emitted a recording much like a real one when a button was pressed. He turned the lights off and waited in a shadowy corner for the other two.

None of them could have suspected their victims.

The doors swished open again, and Chris, Elroy, and Benjamin converged on the unfortunate officers. They only realized whom they were scaring when the heard the screams.

CMDR Ren and Capt. Lawrence.

“Lights.” Lawrence said when he recovered. His look changed from fear to annoyance. “Do you three realize how much trouble you’re in?”

None of them had to answer; they already knew. “Sorry, sir,” Benjamin said, taking off his mask and holding out his hand. “Won’t happen again.”

“I expect not—” Lawrence was cut off as he got zapped by an electric joy-buzzer in Benjamin’s hand.

“Oops,” he said, “Forgot about that thing…”




The next day found the three Lieutenant Commanders busted down to Lieutenant Junior Grades, all three of them on galley duty.

And they were going to be there for a long time.

I had both my parents read it. They both got a kick out of it.

Dribble and Drabble
Username: The Liztress
Word count: 100
Entry: Sarah was a girl who had ran away to join the circus. For six months, she endured the clowns' pranks. Accidentally drinking a strange elephant dung/ raw egg brew, tripping over a rope in the outhouse and falling head first into the toilet, and even worse. When she woke up one morning, she decided to pull a prank of her own. As everyone slept, she nimbly crossed the sleeping bodies. When she got to the door, she flicked the light switch and instead of the lights coming on... All the clowns were pulled up to the ceiling by their ankles.

I hope this isn't too bad.

nice.

Tales of Tomfoolery
Username: Pearl
Word count: 963
Entry:


It was a sweltering morning at the Mediterranean resort, and in the hotel dining room the Mitchell family was finishing breakfast. No conversation remained, just the steady hum of the air-conditioning which kept the stifling air at bay. The scrambled eggs had been polished off, the toast munched, and the slightly wrinkly fruit had all but disappeared. There was a small amount of orange juice left, but it was no longer cold, and nobody fancied it. Mr Mitchell, it seemed, neatly attired in a polo shirt buttoned up to the neck, was the only family member still eating, thoughtfully chewing on a croissant while his two sons gestured wildly and excitedly explained the necessity of having beach space near the sea. Mrs Mitchell’s expression remained untroubled under her dropping sunhat and dark glasses, she merely checked the time - 10:42am - before ordering another sex on the beach. When appealed to, she merely said that no one was to leave the breakfast table early.

A short while later, and in dark spirits, the family arrived at the beach to find it swarming with tourists, deck-chairs, towels, and parasols. The only free golden patch was next to the ice-cream hut, not far from the entrance to the hotel. Under the gaze of fifty beach-goers queueing for refreshments, Mr Mitchell struggled with various apparatus, attaining a few knocks and scars in the process. When he returned to consciousness, he saw his wife was lost to the world, buried in a romantic novel on the sun-lounger, and the only trace of his sons was the line of footprints sprinting off into the crowd. The hapless father lay down on a towel next to his wife, who shuffled herself to one side.

The holiday was not turning out as he had expected it to. The sun was in the sky, the temperatures were soaring, the sea was blue and the hotel was luxurious, a type of luxury he would not have dreamed of a couple of years ago. They had all this, and yet he felt the family was no closer together. He remained in a reclining position for a while, slathered in sun-cream, but he had nothing to read and their location was indeed poor. His view was worsened by the enormous shirtless man who was sat a foot in front of him, and who clearly had some kind of skin condition. Saying something quickly to his wife and receiving a grunt in response, he wandered off through the crowd. He would amuse himself if he could not amuse the family.

It was an effort to reach the sea, such was the density of tourists, and his route there was punctuated by a hurried “sorry,” every five seconds. He paddled for a while in what was undeniably beautiful water, despite the overcrowding. He managed to spot his sons, but despondently dismissed the idea of going over to them. Instead, he chose to walk along the curve of the beach, the water lapping over his feet and youngsters treading on his toes, until he came to a slightly less crowded area next to a tall rock-face which provided some shade. He sat down there. It was the same as when he was at home - he had retreated from his family. Now gazing over the packed beach and wishing he had a drink, he was surprised to notice his sons coming towards him, one aged nine, the other aged twelve. They explained they had found a clearer stretch of beach which could be reached by swimming.

The boys were in swimming trunks, and Mr Mitchell was not, but he was very hot by this point so he waded into the sea with his sons. They swam past the rock-face; it was not a very short distance, but the sea was pleasant and the current was not strong, and Mr Mitchell was spurred on by the company of his sons. They came indeed to a small beach which seemed to scoop into the wall of rock, and nobody else was in sight. The younger boy had brought a small plastic ball with him, and they at last played some games together, swam together, and time passed quickly into the late afternoon. They buried the younger boy up to his neck in the sand, dug him out, and then the elder boy had his go. Finally, they insisted on burying Mr Mitchell. After some playful goading, he cheerfully consented. First, they dug a long shallow dip, like a wingless snow angel. Mr Mitchell lay in this. Then, they proceeded to cover him completely, becoming quite carried away in piling on the sand. With glints in their eyes, they patted it down very firmly, until he was quite unable to move. By the end, he had been lying there so comfortably for so long, he had fallen asleep. They did not see it necessary to wake him. When his eyes finally flickered open, the little beach was once again deserted, and he was highly aware of the rising tide.



Mrs Mitchell and her sons returned alone to England, and their mourning would have been even greater were it not for the enormous life insurance the widow had taken out on her husband three weeks before.




Mr Mitchell’s body was never found, but a man matching his physical description was last spotted in a bank in southern Turkey. When asked about this similarity, he furiously denied it. Mrs Mitchell showed little interest in following up the sighting. One final unconfirmed glimpse of this mysterious man was of a suntanned stranger manning a sailing boat off the Turkish coast. The boat’s name was recorded as “özgürlük”, which translated, means “freedom.”






It's not especially humourous, but I hope you like it.

Dribble and Drabble
Username: fairywaif
Word count: 100
Entry:
The great paintball war was waged that day, the shirts and the skins taking up guns. The first to go was big Pete, toppled over like a soccer player. Next to go was Jamie, crying “I’ve been hit! In the left buttock!” Paint flew like bright missiles, sparing none of those concerned. An innocent bystander, chancing through the area was splattered upon her chest. “What foul mess is this!” she cried. She took out a water gun and proceeded to spray one and all. No one won, and all were clean. “Hey, this means no bath tonight!” shouts Joy.

Tales of Tomfoolery
Username: fairywaif
Word count: 563
Entry: Kelli sat down with a sigh. She wanted to be a pop star so bad! But how to do it. To her surprise, there was a small ad in the classifieds. It was almost as if someone had placed it there for her. The ad read- Want to be a Pop Star? Call to have your dream come true! Kelli dialed the number, trembling.
“Hi, I want to be a pop star!” Kelli burst.
“This is Pizza Pizza Place. Can I take your order?”
“Um, I wanna be a pop star?”
“Sorry,we don’t have a pop star pizza. Can I interest you in our Super Magical Fantastical Delicious Hearts, Stars and Moons piz-?” Kelli set down the phone. Was it a joke? She checked the number again. Oh, in her excitement she had hit 5 instead of 1. She redialed the number, replacing the wrong number. Kelli waited with worm-like breath.
“Would you like to be a pop star?”

Yes! Yes I would!”

“Hold on, because we will have a active there...now!” The door bell rang.

“Wow, that was fast! Like they knew I’d call.”
“Hello, I am your local Pop Star Inc Representative. You are the girl, correct?”
“Yep. I’m Kelli.”
“Not anymore Now you’re Kelli*.”
“What the difference? Besides hand motions.”
“There’s an asterisk- though if you want to be more ‘hard-core’ you can do an umlaut.” he suggested.
“I don’t want to change my name!”

“That’s show business, kid. Now what’ll it be?”
“If I have to, asterisk.”
“That’s the spirit! bout your wardrobe...” He took a pair of scissors and made two slices down her shirt.”That’s better!”
“That was my favorite shirt! And where did those come from?!”
“Well now it’s your STAR shirt.”
“Okay... What next?”
“Your hair.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?”
“It’s... eh.”
“Eh? I just cut it week!”

“Yourself? No don’t answer that. Yes, you need something edgier, yet sweet. I have just the thing.” He took out his scissors again and chopped off half of Kelli*’s hair.

“Ah! My luscious locks!” He finished cutting it. Her hair was now a pixie. Kelli* was one unamused fairy. “What are you going to do to me next?”
“Now, we have to craft your singing skills. Sing a line for me.”
“Of what?”t66y
“Anything. Happy birthday, twinkle little star, or bat if you prefer.”
“Okay.” Kelli* took a deep breath and sang happy birthday.
“Good. But add more sex. Think Marilyn Monroe, kid.”
“Mary who?”
“Blonde, curves like a railroad track? Never mind. Sing it slow and breathy.”
Kelli* sang it again.
“I said breathy, not just back from a run. Kid, you have a lot to learn.”
“You know, I’m not sure I want to be a pop star anymore.”
“But kid, this could be your big chance!”
“And stop calling me kid! You’re only a few years older than I am!”
“Really? I thought you were younger than that. Well, youth sells. And you have plenty of it.” The representative clicked his tongue.
“No, I think you don’t get me. I don’t want to be your client anymore! Now out!” Kelli sighed. “Great, my shirt is still ruined. Guess I’ll never be a pop star...I think I’ll try commercials next...”

Aw crap. My strong point is horror/adventure, and humor is wayyyy at the bottom of my list of things I enjoy writing. I think I've only written one humor piece ever -- for my college paper. It was about my snoring problem. :lol: XD And really, it was more sad than humorous in some ways...

Good luck to all the entrants who are humorous though! :D

Yeah, good luck because I'll need it! I've never written humr before. But perhaps I did okay.

Everyone looks amazing on this page. :heart:

Amazing avatars or writing?

The avatars are amazing though I'm sure the stories are too! ;)

Tales of Tomfoolery
Username: FeyonaSaibre
Word count: 520
Entry:It all started... with the caterpillar that was on her son's face. "Hey, baby... you've got a caterpillar on your face." She pulled it off and looked at it. Letting it inch across her finger while her son said the word over and over again. "Hey babe, you have three more of them on you." Her eyes went wide and she shot out of her seat. "OMG!" She started twisting in all directions. "Get them off! Get them off!!" He laughed and started pulling them off one by one. "Why are you freaking out. They're just caterpillar's. It's not like they're going to harm you. They can't even bite." Still frazzled, she wailed.. "I can deal with one but I can't deal with it when they all gang up on me like that." He laughed even harder and she was sure the people working at the restaurant were laughing too.

She sat back down and looked on the ground. She couldn't see of them anymore. Had they all disappeared? "What I wanna know is where they all came from." He said. She turned and looked at him. "I have no idea?" He laughed. "Attack of the killer caterpillars!" She stuck her tongue out at him. "Well it can't be any worse than the fire-breathing camel!" They both laughed for a little while. "OMG! It's a camel!" She was commenting on a comment that made her laugh when she originally read it. They finally finished their food and headed outside, got in their car and headed home. She couldn't help but notice a little bot who was riding on his bike all by his lonesome. She watched as he stopped, pulled down his pants, went to the bathroom and then pulled them back on and got back on his bike like nothing had happened. "People are weird." He nodded agreement.

When they finally came home, her niece and nephew were busy running around and playing games. Her niece kept saying "I'm a princess" and her nephew kept saying "I'm a horsey" and pulled the wagon she was sitting in. She loved the fact that they were so creative.... her own baby on the other hand was running around in circles in the living room. Then he promptly ran head-first into the table and started to cry. "Get up!" She looked over just long enough to verify that he wasn't bleeding and then said it again. "Get up, I know you're ok." After running to her and hugging her tight, he went back to running around in circles again like nothing happened. The other kids were watching him run round and round and decided to join him.

Her niece ran up to her then. "Auntie, what you doing?" She smiled. "Watching you guys... hey Saki, guess what? The sky is purple!" She thought about that for a minute. "Really?" She laughed in response. "You're so gullible. I bet you don't even know what gullible means." Saki laughed... "Sure I do!" She smiled wider. "What does it mean then?" Without missing a beat, Saki said. "A rabbit!" Thus ended her rather strange day...

I wanted to enter the 100 word drabble, but I kept feeling so sick that no inspiration came my way. ._.

O.O Feyona has written a story....I think I'm too lazy to write one. But we will see.

Hmm. I... will try. One more time.

The Tales of Tomfoolery I read so far are interesting. :D I should write a Dribble Drabble, but I don't know. :S

Do I have to add my Dribble Drabble to my original post?