Interesting short story. Short stories-masterpieces from famous writers

In 1992, a group of Australians set themselves the goal of winning the jackpot at all costs. national lottery. They invested $5 million in lottery tickets(at a dollar per ticket) to cover almost everything possible combinations and won $27 million.

II

One nun really needed a ladder, but she had no one to turn to. The devout woman began to fervently pray to the patron saint of carpenters, Saint Joseph. Soon a man appeared on the doorstep who offered his services and in a couple of months made a beautiful, strong spiral staircase. When the work was completed, the man simply disappeared without receiving any payment or gratitude, and all attempts to find him were unsuccessful. It is curious that the staircase is made without any supports, without a single nail, and at the same time makes a 360-degree turn.

III

Elephants rape and kill rhinoceroses. Only in one national park Pilanesberg (South Africa) recorded 63 such cases.

IV

In 1995, New York magazine Newsweek published an article, “Why the Web Can Never Become Nirvana,” mocking the future of the Internet. The author of the article ridiculed the idea that someday people would get news, buy airline tickets and study online. This article can still be read on the publication’s website.

V

Between Egypt and Sudan there is territory that is not claimed by any state. It is called Bir Tawil and is a quadrangle with an area of about 2000 kilometers. In theory, this territory should currently belong to Egypt. However, in 1958, Egypt demanded that Sudan return to the 1899 borders and hand over the Halaib Triangle, refusing Bir Tawil in return. Sudan refused. So Bir Tawil turned out to be the only “no man's” territory outside of Antarctica.

VI

In 1730, the French pirate Olivier Levasseur was sentenced to the gallows. Just before his execution, he suddenly threw a note with a cryptogram into the crowd, shouting: “Find my treasures if you can!” The treasure has not yet been found.

VII

During excavations at an ancient Roman temple in London's Southwark, a jar of ointment was discovered that was at least 2,000 years old. The substance retained its structure, and there were even fairly clear fingerprints on it.

VIII

The largest robbery in Japan occurred in 1968. Once transported a large sum money, a bank car was stopped by a policeman on a motorcycle. He said that, according to his information, there was a bomb in the car and ordered everyone to get out. He then climbed inside “to defuse the explosive device.” Suddenly the car filled with smoke and the bank employees accompanying the valuable cargo fled in panic. And the “policeman” calmly left. During this heist (crime scene pictured below), 300 million yen was stolen and remains unsolved to this day.

IX

Most of the borders of the Middle East were established by a couple of European aristocrats in 1916. The Frenchman François Georges-Picot and the Englishman Mark Sykes developed the so-called “Sykes-Picot Agreement,” which delimited the spheres of interest of Great Britain, France, Russia and Italy in the Middle East after the First World War.

X

In 1967, Australian Prime Minister Harold Holt disappeared without a trace. I went for a swim with friends in the bay and disappeared. He could not drown, since he was an excellent swimmer; there were no sharks in those places; the cheerful prime minister had no reason to commit suicide. Holt's body was never found. This disappearance has become part of Australian folklore. The expression “to make Harold Holt” means to disappear suddenly and mysteriously among the locals.

XI

In May 2013, an American Airlines flight from Los Angeles to New York was forced to make an emergency landing to evict a Whitney Houston fan who had driven passengers and crew into despair. The woman screamed obscenities without stopping famous hit“I Will Always love you” and flatly refused to shut up. She sang even when the police took her out of the salon:

My job required me to take a polygraph test. I was very worried and at the same time curious. Two conclusions: if at the beginning they tell you: “Breathe calmly,” then you will not be able to breathe calmly for the entire session (~2 hours); The polygraph is not an accurate machine. I was re-tested several times for drugs, when in reality I have nothing to do with them at all, not even cigarettes, but the polygraph was still triggered by these questions. And you had to explain that you are not a deer.

I have ugly hands. I have been haunted by this complex all my life. Short and thick fingers, small nail plate. How I envy people who are lucky with their hands! When you can, without hesitation, try on rings, gracefully shake hands, do beautiful manicure... Even my nail extensions look terrible! I am always embarrassed to take something from people and show my hands in company. It seems to me that ugly hands are the same thing as ugly face- also spoils a person (

I can't break the habit of masturbating with my boyfriend's electric toothbrush. The thought that he then brushes his teeth with it is exciting.

When I was about five years old, my grandmother often came and sat with us while my parents worked. And she had a tradition: once a week she would bring a new issue of the Crime newspaper and read it aloud to us before bed. I still remember all sorts of scary stories in detail about maniacs and pedophiles.

I woke up in the morning and realized that I needed to change something in my life. I changed the bed linen and went back to bed. It's a shame that this is where all the planned changes end.

I'm a Veterinarian. Once a woman came to me with a parrot and said that something was wrong with it. I wanted to explain that I am not an ornithologist and do not study parrots. Screaming, she threw the cage with the parrot into the wall and left. I was very scared, picked up the cage and took it to the ornithologist. Fortunately, everything was fine with the parrot, he was just very scared. I took him in with me, and now I have a friend, Yasha. He turned out to be very friendly and affectionate. I recently started talking. I love him very much, we will soon buy him a girlfriend :)

One day I was walking around the city with my one-year-old daughter and went to jump on the trampolines. Soon the groom appeared three years old, looked after my daughter, carried cookies, gave her juice. Then he takes her hand, leads her to his parents, says: “This is mom, this is dad,” he turns to her. “Who are you?” My daughter stands, blinks her eyes, we all laugh. The boy was not taken aback: “What? You don’t know your name? Poor thing! Then I’ll call you Lenin. Grandma says he was good.” We still sometimes call it that))

The husband is very clean, and he always smells of fragrant shower gels and perfume. And then during the night the car often started and ran out of gas. He was running to a gas station and accidentally doused himself with gasoline. When I came home, my legs gave way under me! How I missed the smell of a working man... I attacked him, but he quickly ran away and rushed to the bathroom to wash his clothes. All desire is gone.

I am an extremely tactful and empathic person. Correctly comforting a friend, cheering up a colleague, praising a child, not disturbing the elderly - all this is about me. But not when it comes to love and romantic relationships! I'm kind of mentally retarded in this regard. "Yy" and "uh". I can blurt out something on a date that makes it the last (which happened in my life). It’s as if I came to a symposium on the problems of the Russian language and said: “OK, guys, let’s hype a little!”

I recently saw a picture from a balcony: a drunk guy who had just returned from the army got to the bottom of an unfortunate homeless man with the question: “Where did you serve?” To which the homeless man, without hesitation, replied: “In the homeless division”)

I’m a big workaholic and an activist, but if I become lazy for at least a couple of days, lounging at home watching TV shows and pizza, then I can’t be stopped, and my laziness can drag on for several months until I force myself to get out of bed. So one day I overslept my plane to the Maldives, I planned and saved for a very long time...

Some people have fur all over their apartment because of cats, others because of dogs. And for me because of the carpet! I got it from my ancestors, and I love it very much, but Last year he just sheds catastrophically! His fur is everywhere, and it’s also red... I love my carpet very much, but I don’t want to live covered in wool either.

The other day I came across the city's telephone directory, a healthy Talmud, more than a thousand pages. And I sat like a child, looking for surnames like Sukina, Kherova... there are no such names in our city. There are Durasovs, Durovs, a bunch of Vagins, Pork and the first one starting with the letter I - Jaanus. I think Pavel Leonidovich was unlucky. He is the anus.

As a child, I had a neighbor who was the same age. We often ran to visit each other. Usually we just played together, but on Sundays her dad came, and our get-togethers became a real holiday. The cheerful mustachioed man always came up with Interesting games and brought a bunch of sweets and gifts. Returning home, upset, I asked my mother why we couldn’t have it like this. Thus, at a time when many children dreamed of a father, I dreamed of my parents getting divorced)

When I was 14 ( teenage problems+ really difficult situation in the family), I was on the verge of depression. There are no friends, no one understands, life is not a success. And suddenly I accidentally met a boy from an orphanage three years older than me. We communicated with him very rarely, but literally after a couple of conversations with him, my condition improved a thousand times. He always appeared next to me only when it was really hard for me. So kind, so dear person, everyone around him loved him very much. He was just telling me how hard it was for him a couple of years ago, and how happy he is now. And I realized that there is no point in worrying about something if in a couple of years it won’t matter to you. I’ve lost contact with the boy, we don’t communicate, but I’m incredibly grateful to him and will remember him for the rest of my life. Now, I'm sure he's helping someone else.

He introduced me to my husband best friend. This friend is a womanizer, he had so many beautiful girls. And then one day he starts asking me for the phone number of a girl - my neighbor. I am an accountant for a housing cooperative, so I have contact information for all the residents. The girl is so-so - a gray mouse, it would seem that after all those princesses nothing will shine for her, I feel sorry for her, I think she will fuck her up and leave her. After much persuasion, I took pity and gave him my number. Result: wedding, daughter is already five years old, they adore each other.

My ex-lover decided to ruin my life. Hiding behind the guise of other people, he posted a photo of me with the caption “whore” with his first and last name and, like an adult man, closed all his profiles. I didn’t do anything wrong, I just didn’t want to meet again.

My problem is my age. I'm 21. I can't be promoted at work because there are legal requirements for positions held. But I don’t have a tower yet, I don’t have three years of experience in this field. I cannot calmly and openly say that I am married. After all, if you are married at 21, then only by chance. I can't buy a car, because you're 21 - you're just a child. The result is this: the infantes created their own cult and popularized it so much that now, if you are thirty and watch cartoons, it is more normal and socially correct.

Three years ago, my sister and her husband died in an accident, leaving behind a five-year-old niece. My parents began to press me to take custody of the girl, and at the same time I received a grant for two years of study at a foreign university, which I sought whole year, it was not easy to win. Naturally, it was out of the question for me to miss such a chance, because I had the opportunity to go abroad and stay there to live, and eventually work. The niece was sent to Orphanage- My mother is on disability, my father was sick, and my sisters on my husband’s side all died. For my relatives, I am now enemy number one, but I surprisingly don’t care about it. I have already completed my studies, received my degree and am working where I dreamed of. I wouldn't make any other choice. Alas, and oh, this is my life and I was not going to sacrifice it for someone else.

I'm a fatalist. During her life she survived the unsurvivable seven times. I easily risk my life and don’t take care of it, because I believe that if my body has survived seven damn times, not to mention a bunch of times on the brink, then I’m obviously needed for some reason.

My boyfriend's parents are very rich people. But they don't give him money and don't expensive gifts with the words: “Achieve everything yourself!” That's what he said. But as I heard from his conversation with an old friend from “that rich life", this is because he is dating me, and I am not their equal. I love him madly! But I see how tired he is of working, and how he wants to return to his parents and their money. It seems that our hut is collapsing.

Once, in a subway passage, a guy came up and asked me to walk hand in hand with my ex. At that moment, my self-esteem rose significantly, I was already imagining the upcoming continuation of our acquaintance, but after the girl disappeared from the horizon, the young man also disappeared, as did my phone number.

My grandmother is 80 years old. Lives in multi-storey building on the ninth floor. Recently moved to the floor above new neighbor- such a lady of about 30 years old. One day she comes to my grandmother and says: “I, of course, apologize, but you are walking on the ceiling too loudly.” My grandmother, not at a loss, answered: “When I was young, I lifted weights, but my knees no longer allow me to walk on the ceiling.” The lady was taken aback, muttered something and disappeared.

I have a colleague who talked like I was talking to my mother. She knew everything. She's 50, I'm 30; divorce, new relationship. Recently she covered her ass with me in front of the general. I freaked out, told her, they stopped communicating. I recently saw her with the “same” girl like me. I thought about it. I realized that I knew almost every personal life of my colleagues - who slept with whom, gave birth to whom, what illnesses she had, etc. Everything about those with whom she was once friends. Apparently, my personal life has now become public! What a fool I am(

I needed to move furniture and I turned to a moving company. We were discussing the details with the logistician on the phone, when suddenly I heard strange sounds and realized with horror that it was the gurgling of feeding poop followed by the rustling of paper. Doubts were dispelled by the sound of flushing. In awe, I simply said: “Don’t forget to wash your hands.” I found another company with less relaxed employees.

I have often heard that many men would be happy if they had not one, but two girls nearby. In words, everyone is such an alpha male! I'm a girl, I have a girlfriend. We have been together for a long time and have thought more than once that it would be nice if a man were with us. Not just in terms of sex. We both work, there is no need to provide for us. Nobody is going to share it. But I have not yet met a single man who would be happy about this. Where are you, vaunted males who want to have a harem? Everyone runs away with their eyes wide in fear...

I'm paranoid about teeth. It so happened that I wore braces for more than five years, and when they were removed, it started. I brush my teeth in the morning, evening and after every meal. I brush for 10-15 minutes with three different brushes. I brush until blood oozes from each gum. I know that this is impossible, but I can’t help it. I'm afraid that because of this quirk I will soon lose my smile, because some of my teeth have already begun to wobble...

My husband and I lived in St. Petersburg at the same time. We moved from one apartment to another (10 minutes walk). All things were transported, only one empty suitcase remained. I followed him. It’s summer, it’s warm, I’m rocking this empty suitcase. And then the old woman walking towards me stops and loudly rumbles: “Where? Back? Home? To Orenburg?!” She shook her head disapprovingly and moved on. If she had confused me with someone, she would have called me by name, asked what happened... Why Orenburg at all? I'm from Ekaterinburg...

I have depression, I am working with a therapist. He explained why it was necessary to break off a long-stagnant relationship with a guy. I tried to be as gentle as possible when parting. The ex-boyfriend was already OFFEN that I wanted to break up with him, and he no longer writes.

I’ve been living in Germany for a year now and when I start to miss hometown(I’m from the Baltic states), I just go on Sunday to the only store that is open that day throughout the city. Since this is the central station, all the cream of society gather here. The crush, the running, the queues - everything we love. After such an adventure I remember how much I hate people.

Hemingway once bet that he would write a six-word story (in the original language) that would be the most moving ever written. And he won the argument.
1. “Children's shoes for sale. Not worn.”
(“For sale: baby shoes, never used.”)
2. The winner of the competition for the shortest story that has a beginning, climax and denouement. (O.Henry)
“The driver lit a cigarette and bent over the gas tank to see how much gasoline was left. The deceased was twenty-three years old."
3. Frederick Brown. Shortest scary tale ever written.
“The last man on Earth was sitting in a room. There was a knock on the door."
4. A competition was held in Great Britain for the shortest story.
The parameters were as follows:
- God must be mentioned,
- Queen,
- There should be some sex
and there is some mystery present.
Winner story:
- God! - cried the queen, - I am pregnant, and it is unknown from
whom!…
5. An elderly French woman won the competition for the shortest autobiography and wrote:
“I used to have a smooth face and a wrinkled skirt, but now it’s the other way around.”

Jane Orvis. Window.

Ever since Rita was brutally murdered, Carter has been sitting by the window.
No TV, reading, correspondence. His life is what is seen through the curtains.
He doesn't care who brings the food, who pays the bills, he doesn't leave the room.
His life is about passing athletes, the change of seasons, passing cars, the ghost of Rita.
Carter doesn't realize that the felt-lined chambers have no windows.

Larisa Kirkland. Offer.

Starlight Night. It's the right time. Romantic dinner. Cozy Italian restaurant. Small black dress. Luxurious hair, sparkling eyes, silvery laughter. We've been together for two years. Wonderful time! Real love, best friend, no one else. Champagne! I offer my hand and heart. On one knee. Are people watching? Well, let! Beautiful diamond ring. Blush on the cheeks, charming smile.
How, no?!

Charles Enright. Ghost.

As soon as this happened, I hurried home to tell my wife the sad news. But she didn't seem to listen to me at all. She didn't notice me at all. She looked right through me and poured herself a drink. She turned on the TV.

At that moment there was a phone call. She walked over and picked up the phone.
I saw her face wrinkle. She cried bitterly.

Andrew E. Hunt. Gratitude.

The wool blanket he'd recently been given from a charity felt comfortable around his shoulders, and the boots he'd found in the trash today didn't sting at all.
The street lights warmed the soul so pleasantly after all this chilling darkness...
The curve of the park bench seemed so familiar to his weary old back.
“Thank you, Lord,” he thought, “life is simply amazing!”

Brian Newell. What the devil wants.

The two boys stood and watched Satan slowly walk away. The sparkle of his hypnotic eyes still clouded their heads.
- Listen, what did he want from you?
- My soul. And from you?
– A coin for a pay phone. He urgently needed to call.
- Do you want us to go eat?
- I want to, but now I have no money at all.
- It's OK. I have plenty.

Alan E. Mayer. Bad luck.

I woke up with severe pain throughout my body. I opened my eyes and saw a nurse standing by my bed.
“Mr. Fujima,” she said, “you were lucky to survive the bombing of Hiroshima two days ago.” But now you are in the hospital, you are no longer in danger.
A little alive from weakness, I asked:
- Where I am?
“In Nagasaki,” she answered.

Jay Rip. Fate.

There was only one way out, for our lives were intertwined in too tangled a knot of anger and bliss to solve everything any other way. Let's trust the lot: heads - and we will get married, tails - and we will part forever.
The coin was tossed. She tinkled, spun and stopped. Eagle.
We stared at her in bewilderment.
Then, with one voice, we said, “Maybe one more time?”

Robert Tompkins. In search of Truth.

Finally, in this remote, secluded village, his search ended. Truth sat in a dilapidated hut by the fire.
He had never seen an older, uglier woman.
– Are you – Really?
The old, wizened hag nodded solemnly.
- Tell me, what should I tell the world? What message to convey?
The old woman spat into the fire and answered:
– Tell them that I am young and beautiful!

August Salemi. Modern medicine.

Blinding headlights, a deafening grinding sound, piercing pain, absolute pain, then a warm, inviting, pure blue light. John felt amazingly happy, young, free, he moved towards the radiant radiance.
The pain and darkness slowly returned. John slowly, with difficulty, opened his swollen eyes. Bandages, some tubes, plaster. Both legs were gone. Tearful wife.
- You were saved, dear!

Dear friend! On this page you will find a selection of small or rather even very small stories with deep spiritual meaning. Some stories are only 4-5 lines, some a little more. In every story, no matter how short, it reveals big story. Some stories are light and humorous, others are instructive and suggestive. philosophical thoughts, but they are all very, very sincere.

The short story genre is notable for the fact that in a few words a big story is created, which invites you to stretch your brains and smile, or pushes the imagination into a flight of thoughts and understandings. After reading just this one page, you may get the impression that you have mastered several books.

This collection contains many stories about love and the theme of death, so close to it, the meaning of life and the spiritual experience of every moment. People often try to avoid the topic of death, and in several short stories on this page it is shown from such an original side that it makes it possible to understand it in a completely new way, and therefore begin to live differently.

Happy reading and interesting emotional experiences!

“Recipe for female happiness” – Stanislav Sevastyanov

Masha Skvortsova dressed up, put on makeup, sighed, made up her mind - and came to visit Petya Siluyanov. And he treated her to tea and amazing cakes. But Vika Telepenina didn’t dress up, didn’t put on makeup, didn’t sigh - and simply came to Dima Seleznev. And he treated her to vodka with amazing sausage. So there are countless recipes for women’s happiness.

"In Search of Truth" - Robert Tompkins

Finally, in this remote, secluded village, his search ended. Truth sat in a dilapidated hut by the fire.
He had never seen an older, uglier woman.
- Are you - Really?
The old, wizened hag nodded solemnly.
- Tell me, what should I tell the world? What message to convey?
The old woman spat into the fire and answered:
- Tell them that I am young and beautiful!

"Silver Bullet" - Brad D. Hopkins

Sales have fallen for six straight quarters. The ammunition factory suffered catastrophic losses and was on the verge of bankruptcy.
Chief Executive Scott Phillips had no idea what was going on, but shareholders were sure to blame him.
He opened the desk drawer, took out a revolver, put the muzzle to his temple and pulled the trigger.
Misfire.
“Okay, let’s take care of the product quality control department.”

"Once Upon a Time There Was Love"

And one day it came Great Flood. And Noah said:
“Only every creature - in pairs! And for singles - ficus!!!"
Love began to look for a mate - Pride, Wealth,
Glory, Joy, but they already had companions.
And then Separation came to her and said:
"I love you".
Love quickly jumped into the Ark with her.
But Separation actually fell in love with Love and did not
I wanted to part with her even on earth.
And now Separation always follows Love...

“Sublime Sadness” – Stanislav Sevastyanov

Love sometimes brings sublime sadness. At dusk, when the thirst for love was completely unbearable, student Krylov came to the house of his beloved, student Katya Moshkina from a parallel group, and climbed up the drainpipe to her balcony to make a confession. On the way, he diligently repeated the words that he would say to her, and got so carried away that he forgot to stop in time. So I stood sad all night on the roof of the nine-story building until the firefighters removed it.

“Mother” – Vladislav Panfilov

The mother was unhappy. She buried her husband and son, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. She remembered them small and thick-cheeked, and gray-haired, and hunched over. The mother felt like a lonely birch tree among a forest scorched by time. The mother begged to grant her death: any, the most painful one. Because she is tired of living! But I had to live on... And the only joy for the mother were the grandchildren of her grandchildren, just as big-eyed and chubby-cheeked. And she nursed them and told them all her life, and the lives of her children and her grandchildren... But one day giant blinding pillars grew around her mother, and she saw how her great-great-grandchildren were burned alive, and she herself screamed from the pain of melting skin and pulled to the sky withered yellow hands and cursed him for her fate. But the sky responded with a new whistle of cutting air and new flashes of fiery death. And in convulsions, the Earth began to stir, and millions of souls fluttered into space. And the planet tensed up in nuclear apoplexy and exploded into pieces...

The little pink fairy, swinging on an amber branch, chirped for the umpteenth time to her friends about how many years ago, flying to the other end of the universe, she noticed a bluish-green small planet sparkling in the rays of space. “Oh, she’s so wonderful! Oh! She is so beautiful! - the fairy cooed. “I've been flying over the emerald fields all day! Azure lakes! Silvery rivers! I felt so good that I decided to do some good deed!” And I saw a boy sitting alone on the shore of a tired pond, and I flew up to him and whispered: “I want to fulfill your wish.” cherished wish! Tell me it!” And the boy raised beautiful ones at me dark eyes: “It’s my mom’s birthday today. I want her, no matter what, to live forever!” “Oh, what a noble desire! Oh, how sincere it is! Oh, how sublime it is!” - the little fairies sang. “Oh, how happy is this woman who has such a noble son!”

“Lucky” – Stanislav Sevastyanov

He looked at her, admired her, trembled when he met: she sparkled against the background of his mundane everyday life, was sublimely beautiful, cold and inaccessible. Suddenly, having given her plenty of his attention, he felt that she too, as if melting under his scorching gaze, began to reach out to him. And so, without expecting it, he came into contact with her... He came to his senses when the nurse was changing the bandage on his head.
“You are lucky,” she said affectionately, “rarely anyone survives from such icicles.”

"Wings"

“I don’t love you,” these words pierced the heart, turning out the insides with sharp edges, turning them into minced meat.

“I don’t love you,” simple six syllables, only twelve letters that kill us, shooting merciless sounds from our lips.

“I don’t love you,” there is nothing worse when a loved one says them. The one for whom you live, for whom you do everything, for whom you can even die.

“I don’t love you,” my eyes darken. First, peripheral vision turns off: a dark veil envelops everything around, leaving a small space. Then flickering, iridescent gray dots cover the remaining area. It's completely dark. You only feel your tears, a terrible pain in your chest, squeezing your lungs like a press. You feel squeezed and try to take up as little space as possible in this world, to hide from these hurtful words.

“I don’t love you,” your wings, which covered you and your beloved in Hard time, begin to fall off with already yellowed feathers, like November trees under a gust of autumn wind. A piercing cold passes through the body, freezing the soul. Only two processes, covered with light fluff, already stick out from the back, but even this withers away from the words, crumbling into silver dust.

“I don’t love you,” the letters dig into the remains of the wings like a screeching saw, tearing them out of the back, tearing the flesh to the shoulder blades. Blood flows down the back, washing away the feathers. Small fountains gush out from the arteries and it seems that new wings have grown - bloody wings, light, airy and spraying.

“I don’t love you,” there are no more wings. The blood stopped flowing, drying into a black crust on the back. What used to be called wings are now only barely noticeable tubercles, somewhere at the level of the shoulder blades. There is no more pain and the words remain just words. A set of sounds that no longer cause suffering, that don’t even leave traces.

The wounds have healed. Time cures…
Time heals even the worst wounds. Everything passes, even the long winter. Spring will come anyway, melting the ice in the soul. You hug your loved one, yourself dear person, and you embrace him with snow-white wings. Wings always grow back.

- I love you…

“Ordinary scrambled eggs” – Stanislav Sevastyanov

“Go, leave everyone. It’s better to be alone: I’ll freeze, I’ll be unsociable, like a bump in a swamp, like a snowdrift. And when I lie down in the coffin, don’t you dare come to me to sob to your heart’s content for your own good, bending over the fallen body left by the muse, and the pen, and the shabby, oil-stained paper...” Having written this, the sentimentalist writer Sherstobitov re-read what he had written thirty times, he added “cramped” in front of the coffin and was so imbued with the resulting tragedy that he could not stand it and shed a tear for himself. And then his wife Varenka called him to dinner, and he was pleasantly satisfied with vinaigrette and scrambled eggs with sausage. Meanwhile, his tears had dried up, and he, returning to the text, first crossed out “cramped”, and then instead of “laying down in a coffin” he wrote “laying down on Parnassus”, because of which all subsequent harmony went to dust. “Well, to hell with harmony, I’d better go and stroke Varenka’s knee...” Thus, an ordinary scrambled egg was preserved for the grateful descendants of the sentimentalist writer Sherstobitov.

"Destiny" - Jay Rip

“Chest” – Daniil Kharms

A man with a thin neck climbed into the chest, closed the lid behind him and began to choke.

“Here,” the man with a thin neck said, gasping, “I’m suffocating in the chest, because I have a thin neck.” The lid of the chest is closed and does not allow air to reach me. I will be suffocating, but I still won’t open the lid of the chest. Little by little I will die. I will see the struggle of life and death. The fight will take place unnaturally, with equal chances, because death naturally wins, and life, doomed to death, only fights in vain with the enemy, until last minute without losing vain hope. In this same struggle that will happen now, life will know the way to win: for this, life must force my hands to open the lid of the chest. Let's see: who wins? Only it smells awfully like mothballs. If life wins, I’ll cover the things in the chest with shag... Here it begins: I can’t breathe anymore. I'm dead, that's clear! There is no salvation for me anymore! And there is nothing sublime in my head. I'm suffocating!...

Oh! What is it? Now something has happened, but I can't figure out what it is. I saw something or heard something...
Oh! Did something happen again? My God! I can't breathe. I think I'm dying...

What else is this? Why am I singing? I think my neck hurts... But where is the chest? Why do I see everything that is in my room? There's no way I'm lying on the floor! Where's the chest?

The thin-necked man rose from the floor and looked around. The chest was nowhere to be found. On the chairs and bed were things taken from the chest, but the chest was nowhere to be found.

The man with the thin neck said:
“This means that life has defeated death in a way unknown to me.”

"Wretched" - Dan Andrews

They say evil has no face. Indeed, no feelings were reflected on his face. There was not a glimmer of sympathy on him, but the pain was simply unbearable. Can't he see the horror in my eyes and the panic on my face? He calmly, one might say, carried out his dirty work professionally, and at the end he politely said: “Rinse your mouth, please.”

"Dirty laundry"

One married couple moved to live in new apartment. In the morning, as soon as she woke up, the wife looked out the window and saw a neighbor who was hanging out washed clothes to dry.
“Look at her dirty laundry,” she told her husband. But he was reading the newspaper and did not pay any attention to it.

“She probably has bad soap, or she doesn’t know how to do laundry at all. We should teach her.”
And so, every time the neighbor hung out the laundry, the wife was surprised at how dirty it was.
One fine morning, looking out the window, she cried out: “Oh! Today the laundry is clean! She must have learned how to do laundry!”
“No,” said the husband, “I just got up early today and washed the window.”

“I couldn’t wait” – Stanislav Sevastyanov

It was unprecedented wonderful moment. Disdaining unearthly forces and own way, he stopped to look at her for the future. At first she took a very long time to take off her dress and fiddle with the zipper; then she let her hair down and combed it, filling it with air and silky color; then she pulled at the stockings, trying not to get them caught with her nails; then she hesitated with the pink lingerie, so ethereal that even her delicate fingers seemed rough. Finally she undressed all - but the month was already looking out the other window.

"Wealth"

One day a rich man gave a basket to a poor man, full of garbage. The poor man smiled at him and left with the basket. I shook the trash out of it, cleaned it, and then filled it. beautiful flowers. He returned to the rich man and returned the basket to him.

The rich man was surprised and asked: “Why are you giving me this basket filled with beautiful flowers if I gave you garbage?”
And the poor man replied: “Everyone gives to the other what he has in his heart.”

“Don’t let good things go to waste” – Stanislav Sevastyanov

“How much do you charge?” - “Six hundred rubles per hour.” - “And in two hours?” - “A thousand.” He came to her, she smelled sweetly of perfume and skill, he was worried, she touched his fingers, his fingers were disobedient, crooked and absurd, but he clenched his will into a fist. Returning home, he immediately sat down at the piano and began to consolidate the scale he had just learned. The instrument, an old Becker, was given to him by his previous tenants. My fingers ached, my ears felt stuffy, my willpower grew stronger. The neighbors were banging on the wall.

“Postcards from the Other World” – Franco Arminio

Here the end of winter and the end of spring are approximately the same. The first roses serve as a signal. I saw one rose when they were taking me in an ambulance. I closed my eyes, thinking about this rose. In front, the driver and nurse were talking about a new restaurant. There you can eat your fill, and the prices are meager.

At some point I decided that I could become important person. I felt that death was giving me a reprieve. Then I plunged headlong into life, like a child with his hand in a stocking with baptismal gifts. Then my day came. Wake up, my wife told me. Wake up, she kept repeating.

It was a fine sunny day. I didn't want to die on a day like this. I always thought that I would die at night, with dogs barking. But I died at noon when a cooking show started on TV.

They say people most often die at dawn. For years I woke up at four in the morning, got up and waited for the fateful an hour will pass. I opened a book or turned on the TV. Sometimes he went outside. I died at seven in the evening. Nothing special happened. The world has always caused me vague anxiety. And then this anxiety suddenly passed.

I was ninety-nine. My children came to the nursing home just to talk to me about my centenary celebrations. None of this bothered me at all. I didn't hear them, I only felt my fatigue. And he wanted to die so as not to feel her either. It happened before my eyes eldest daughter. She gave me a piece of apple and talked about a cake with the number one hundred on it. The one should be as long as a stick, and the zeros should be like bicycle wheels, she said.

My wife is still complaining about the doctors who didn’t treat me. Although I always considered myself incurable. Even when Italy won the World Cup, even when I got married.

By the age of fifty, I had the face of a man who could die any minute. I died at ninety-six, after a long agony.

What I always enjoyed was the nativity scene. Every year he turned out more and more elegant. I displayed it in front of the door of our house. The door was constantly open. I divided the only room with red and white tape, like when repairing roads. I treated those who stopped to admire the nativity scene with beer. I talked in detail about papier-mâché, musk, sheep, wise men, rivers, castles, shepherds and shepherdesses, caves, the Baby, the guiding star, electrical wiring. Electrical wiring was my pride. I died alone on Christmas night, looking at the nativity scene sparkling with all the lights.

In this section of our website we have posted a variety of short funny stories. For lovers of stories and anecdotes, these funny stories exactly what you need. It doesn’t take much time, it’s full of humor full program, and most importantly – this is the only way to lift your spirits! Cool funny short stories are a kind of joke, but they are usually taken from real life, and sometimes it is in such stories that the cleverly twisted plot or the degree of comedy gives such turns that you laugh without stopping for several minutes.

We hope these are short funny stories will not only lift your spirits, but also encourage you to write your own funny stories, of which every person has quite a lot, if his memory is good. In any case, we will be glad to see you on the pages of our website one more time.

I remembered a story from my school childhood. There was a thin, weak amateur astronomer in our class, Andrei. Everyone who missed the mark had the honor of offending the calm and harmless “nerd.” Once during a physical education lesson (in the gym we had joint physical education, without separating men/women), the boys were doing pull-ups on the crossbar, and it was Andrei’s turn. The first bully of the class ran up from behind to the pulling up "nerd" and pulled down his pants along with his underpants... In complete silence, the girls' jaws slowly dropped, the boys got their first complexes... More Andrey no one was offended.

I, like my older brother, am a former avid gamer. Only I always loved strategy games, and he liked adventure games. We went roller skating with him one day. He rushes ahead and says something, turning to me. Suddenly I see it going straight into the pit. Very deep. My then still childish brain couldn’t come up with anything better than to yell: “Space!!!” You know, he jumped...

Available in Chita region mineral spring Cook. Naturally, the water from the source is bottled and sold. The name of the water is appropriate - “Kuka”... Late fall. Two o'clock in the morning. A little-visited stall. Sleepy salesman (woman, 45 years old). Lonely buyer (male). The buyer, knocking on the window, waiting until it is opened, hands over ten rubles and says:
- Kuku!
The seller, not fully awake:
- Ku-Ku...
Buyer, insistently:
- KUKU!!!
Salesman:
- What, you were cuckooing at two o’clock in the morning?..

The ability to sell a product well is also an art. We went with some guys in China just to have dinner. Well, as usual, we decided to take one hundred grams. I approach the bartender:
- Three for a hundred! - And I lay out the money.
The bartender silently places three glasses and an unopened bottle of vodka on the counter.
- I asked for three for a hundred!
The guy’s answer at first plunged me into a state of mild euphoria, and then I realized that knowledge of Russian psychology increases the sales volume of people like him to the skies. He said:
- There will be some left, you can bring it back.
Well, how could she stay?

One day, the management of a large Western company decided to hold an attraction of unprecedented tolerance. Decided to organize a gay festival with representatives from all offices. An order came to the Russian office - to send 3 gays. Management thought hard. We called a meeting and started thinking. We came up with it. A decree was issued: the heads of three divisions that show the worst performance results for the current quarter will go to the gay pride parade. The company has never seen such production, sales, marketing, advertising, supply!..

At work, an employee says that her lover gave her a new gold chain, but she doesn’t know how to explain its appearance to her husband. Everyone starts giving advice: like, say that a friend gave it to her, she bought it herself, they gave her a bonus at work, etc. One man advises: - Better tell me what you found. My wife, for example, recently found a gold bracelet. The guy somehow didn’t immediately understand why everyone was suddenly giggling...

Dacha, grandmother and granddaughter drinking tea. There is jam on the table, with ants crawling towards it from different sides. The girl, without thinking twice, crushed one. The grandmother puts pressure on the child’s pity:
- Lizonka, what are you talking about, how is this possible?! The ants are also alive, they hurt! They have children! Just imagine: they are sitting at home and waiting for their mother. But mom won't come.
Lisa (crushing another insect with her finger):
- And dad won’t come either...

A friend got tired of texting until 1 am every day. I wrote a program for a smart phone that automatically responds to all SMS: “Yes, my love,” “of course,” “very,” etc. - in any order. In the morning I saw 264 incoming SMS. The last one at 5:45 with the text: “When will you, bitch, fall asleep?!”

In the 9th grade (children are 14-15 years old) a routine medical examination was carried out at school, including by a gynecologist. For many girls this was the first time: everyone’s knees were shaking. A lady gynecologist of Balzac's age, to save time, asks more questions than examines. The question is the same for all 60 girls from four classes:
- Are you sexually active?
- How many years? - if the answer is positive
The lady was pretty tired.
Actually the story: my friend (P), gathering her will into a fist, approaches her aunt (T).
(T) - are you alive?
(P) -zhiiiiivvuuu (shaking with fear, having forgotten the essence of the question)
(T) surprised - How old?
(P) almost crying - fourteen fourteen...

I have a friend. Works at a computer company, in a warehouse. And across the wall he has neighbors - a veterinary pharmacy. The doors are nearby, and therefore visitors often get confused. Yesterday he wrote to me in ICQ: “Today a man came and stood in the entire line! I waited until the clients took the printer, floppy disks, and some other crap... The guy eventually comes up and asks a question: “My horse is coughing... What should I do?”