It’s Like Magic

“Hey Mike, early as usual, come in it’s been a while.”

“Nice pad, but I thought you might have something a little bigger after that heist in…”

“Not here,” Darrel interrupted. That was a high profile gig and he was afraid the fed might be listening.

“Hey look at this little guy, what kind of dog is this?”

“That’s MacGyver, he’s a charcoal lab, he’s a lot of fun, but we haven’t worked out the potty training yet.”

“Hey Mike, since you’re early I hope you don’t mind if I finish up a few things before we hit the town,” Darrel says, tossing his friend a beer.

“Not at all. What is that anyway?”

“It’s one of those robot vacuums. Check out the furniture, I have the house set up so the vacuum can get under everything. It’s like magic; the place gets clean while we get drunk…”

* * * * * *

“uhh… what happened last night, what’s all over me? What happened to the girls we met? My head hurts. What’s all over the floor?” Darrel said as he tried to get up off the floor.

“All great questions Darrel. The three shots you decided to shotgun put you over the edge and you threw up on Anna, one of the girls we met. The same thing that is on the floor is all over you… poopy! You might ask how that happened. Well, it appears MacGyver took a crap on your floor and your wonderful robot vacuum managed to spread it evenly all under all the furniture and in every corner of this place. That’s right, there is dog shit covering every square inch of this condo, it’s really magical.


Note: You guessed it, I was feeding my Internet addiction, and I found a cool site about stupid criminals. As usual a strange story stuck in my head and I felt I had to share it with the world or at least you. I hope you enjoyed this one.


Stop Laughing

Note: I was cruising the web reading Knock Knock Jokes and this story lodged its self into my brain. I hope you all enjoy.


“Knock knock,” Morgan said, slowly opening the bathroom door.

“Ahh… Who’s there,” came the weak reply.

“Oh I love these jokes,” she continued to open the door. “Oh my word, what happened?” She said when she saw her husband, Jeff, laying on the floor.

Jeff was barley able to crawl; it took him a minuet to regain his thoughts.

“Well, if you must know, I sat down to handle my business and picked up a Vonnegut volume. I was sucked into the book and before I knew it, I had been sitting there reading for thirty minuets. I jumped up realizing I was late to Jessie’s volleyball game and, apparently, there was no blood in my legs to make them work. My head began a slow decent toward your candle shrine. My upper body was flailing trying to avoid the inevitable and my legs, still feeling like sandbags, didn’t move. That’s the last thing I remember and then you walked in.“

“Morgan, stop laughing…”

Ned’s Dilemma

Ned stood staring at his photo on the wall. He thought his new status would change things, he thought everything would be different now that he was a celebrity. So far, nothing has changed.

Edward still pulls his underwear to the middle of his back, often ripping the elastic, which in an absurd way ripped elastic turns out to be a blessing. Ned went commando once and the direct denim/zipper contact was much less forgiving on his manhood.

After the award was announced, Ned asked Melissa out, she appeared to take offense to the gesture, and enough offense she slapped him.

“I guess Melissa is not the kind of girl that sleeps with celebrities,” he thought, rubbing his face in memory of the event.

The crushing blow came just after the Melissa incident, his face still stung. “You’re not a celebrity,” Vanessa screamed at Ned after another failed attempt at using his statues to make progress with the ladies. “Could that be true?” he thought.

Ed thought long and hard about this accusation, he thought about the hard work he had put in to gain this coveted status. Could he have miss judged, was this position less than prestigious? Is employee of the month the only place on earth where you can be a winner and a loser at the same time?

This story was inspired by a joke on, make sure you stop by for a laugh. I hope you all enjoy!

Just Cleaning Windows

“Floor fifty eight rookie,” Claude told the newest member of the crew. They had been cleaning widows for hours and only gone down two floors. The rookie, also know as Bradley, had a queasy look on his face since they started.

“What is that guy doing?” Bradley asked, looking inside the building.

“Finally,” Claude replied. “Now things will get interesting.”

“Is he yelling at us?”

“Yep,” Claude said with a smile. “You come across screamers in the high rises. I guess they think we are too loud, we’re messin up their day somehow. Of course, they only yell when they are alone in the office, like telephone tough guys.”

Bradley was staring, amazed at the anger coming from this so-called businessman. “Wow,” Bradley said still staring at the businessman. “I think he is getting more an…”

“There’s a streak for you!” Claude shouted. “Come on rookie drop em and lets show this guy a thing or two.”

“Let me down from here… I’m serious, I’m going back to residential window cleaning!”

Note: I called for professional window cleaning and that is exactly what I got, a professional service. However, I could not get this story out of my head so I am sharing it with you now. I hope you enjoy.

Guitar Practice


Funny Stories

Copyright – Bjorn Rudberg





“Try it again; you’re muting the F note.”

“But dad, it’s too hard, I can’t.”

“Yes you can, Darleen, you know I don’t like it when you say I can’t.”

“But dad.”

“Stop with the buts, try it again.”

“Dad, I can’t do…”

* * *

“What is wrong with you,” Darleen said as she ran out of the room, her dad two steps behind her. In his left hand, he held the neck of a ¾ size classical guitar. Only splinters remained of the guitar’s body and the nylon strings were hanging almost to the floor.

There, Darleen, now it’s a fact… You can’t.



Come on admit it, you think about things like this. You have thoughts of pushing your kid out of his chair when he spits his food on the floor or throwing his favorite toy out the window when he won’t share. It’s funny, as long as you just think about it.

This story was my contribution to Friday Fictioneers. Make sure to stop by and check out stories from other authors.