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Five Short Humor Pieces
by Stephen J. Davis


My first boyfriend was a Scorpio. But he was too devious. I had to dump him. James, the Taurus, was so stubborn he lasted only two weeks. The cute guy at work was a Pisces. It was purely sexual, though, he couldn’t offer me an astrological connection.

My current boyfriend is absolutely perfect. Our signs are aligned with the heavens. He wants to have a picnic today, says there’s something important to tell me. I think he’ll propose.

“You were going to tell me something?”

“Yes, well, um . . . I want to break up. My astrologer says I shouldn’t date Capricorns.”


“Hey Mom, guess what?” asks Kirk over the phone.


“We just found out the sex of our baby.”

“You did? What are you gonna have?”

“Well, what do you want us to have?”

“It doesn’t matter, dear. I’m not favoring one or the other. A girl or a boy. It doesn’t really matter.”

Kirk suspected otherwise. His Mom had single handedly raised three rambunctious boys. She certainly seemed to be leaning towards a little girl.

“So tell me, please, tell me.”

“Well, we’re gonna have a girl.”

“Really? A baby girl? That’s great! I’ve already bought her three dresses.”


A husband of polished looks returns to his wife after work. Following their kiss hello, a Freudian slip, “Did you mail the mortgage, Betsy?”

“Betsy? Who the hell is Betsy?”

“Oh, sorry, honey. Betsy’s this girl at work that got caught laundering money. My mind must’ve been thinking about her arrest.”

Gina—her real name—believed his lie and so discussed the mortgage. She’d continue to hear erroneous names—Katie, Jessica, Sandy—all with less believable excuses. The truth became obvious.

“I need to tell you something, Tom.”

“Tom? Who the hell is Tom?”

“Oh, him? He’s my divorce lawyer.”


I’m what you’d call a moral thief. Instead of stealing thousands from one person, I steal a penny each from thousands of different people. That’s fair, don’t you think? It’s no worse than taking pennies off the sidewalk. Kant and Mill—you moralists would be so proud of me.

I simply hack into someone’s account and transfer an insignificant cent into my checking. The amount is so miniscule, who would possibly notice or care? It’s taken me a year to steal 10,000 cents, which puts me in at 100 bucks.

Hey, no one ever said morality was a lucrative business.


There are several ways to pass one’s time on a toilet—newspaper and magazine reading are popular options. But our protagonist, Ted, has made an unwise decision in this matter: He chose to call his new girlfriend.

Their conversation lasts ten happy minutes before Sherry hears flushing.

“Did you just flush the toilet?” she asks, outraged at the thought.

“Yeah, why?” replies an oblivious Ted.

“Number 1 or number 2?” she clarifies. Perhaps she could forgive the former, but the latter?

“Number 2.”

And with that answer I’ll spare you the plumbing metaphor—you know where this relationship is going.