• By Alice
    I was on my way home by train. The trip went smoothly—there weren’t many people, so I spent most of the time scrolling on my phone. When I got home, I made myself some warm salami and onion toast. While I was eating, I noticed a small piece of onion on the chair. Without thinking much of it, I popped it into my mouth and started chewing. But then I quickly realized the texture was completely off. I spat it out into my hand and saw…
    a gross, large, yellowish toenail clipping that must have gotten stuck to my pants on the train and ended up on my chair.
    a piece of dried onion skin that had somehow gotten into my food.
    a rubber band I had left on the table earlier that day.
    a tiny piece of paper stuck to my hand, which must have come from the chair.
  • By Nitro
    A month ago, I went to the cinema with my dad to see Interstellar. I usually go with my girlfriend or friends, but I’d been waiting for this movie for so long and was sure it would be great. I wanted my dad to experience some good cinema too. Unfortunately, we were about 10 minutes late because we couldn’t find parking. When we got into the theater, the movie had already started. I was a bit surprised since there’s usually 20 minutes of ads, but oh well—just bad luck. The movie was good, but the plot seemed to move too quickly, and I had a hard time following it. We both agreed that the opening was poorly done and didn't set up the story well. Worst of all, the movie was short. After only 90 minutes, it ended, and we left feeling somewhat disappointed. When I got home, I read some reviews online and got really frustrated when I saw that the movie is actually 170 minutes long. It turns out we saw some kind of cut version! What a joke. The next day, I called the cinema to complain, demanding an explanation. I insisted that they should clearly mark if they’re showing a shortened version, and I asked for compensation or a full refund. I made it very clear that…
    ...I wasn’t some pushover, but to my embarrassment, they explained we had entered the wrong theater, and the film had started an hour and a half earlier.
    ...I wouldn’t back down until I got free tickets for another movie of my choice.
    ...they needed to compensate us with VIP tickets for another screening.
    ...they hadn’t seen the last of me if they didn’t offer us an upgrade to a better experience.
  • By Norm
    Let me start by saying I usually avoid popping pimples because I’m afraid they’ll leave scars or pits in my skin. So, I was at a New Year’s Eve party at a friend’s place, where I met a cool girl. We talked a bit, danced, and had a great time. But like all parties, it eventually came to an end. It was time to say goodbye, and as usual, I gave the girls a little cheek-to-cheek goodbye. What I mean by that is more of an awkward bumping of cheeks. When my turn came to say goodbye to this girl, we touched cheeks, and suddenly, I felt a sharp pain on my face. That’s when I remembered the huge pimple I had there—and at the same time, I felt a wet sensation on my skin. I looked at her cheek and saw...
    ...a bright red and white smear, realizing with horror that my pimple had popped on her face.
    ...a lipstick smudge where we bumped, which made me laugh awkwardly.
    ...a strange speck of dirt that had somehow transferred from my cheek.
    ...a tear of sweat, which I quickly wiped away, pretending nothing had happened.
  • By Trevor
    I was flying back from a trip, and the night before had been quite a heavy one, with a lot of drinking. My flight was at 6 a.m., and I arrived at the airport with a terrible hangover and stomach pain. As soon as I boarded the plane, I found my seat, put on my in-ear headphones, and turned on some music. After a few minutes, I felt my stomach rumbling, and a buildup of gas that urgently needed release. I hate airplane bathrooms, so I decided to let it out silently, without leaving my seat. I kept releasing ‘silent killers’ every few minutes for the entire flight. The smell was awful, and I felt guilty, but at least no one knew it was me. As the plane started descending, another silent one slipped out. I took off my headphones and to my horror, I realized…
    ...the baby in the seat behind me started crying loudly, and I thought it was because of the smell.
    ...what I thought was silent was actually as loud as thunder, making everyone in my row turn to look.
    ...I had accidentally let out a cough instead, confusing everyone around me.
    ...the person next to me had taken off their headphones at the exact same moment and was staring at me.
  • By Jose
    A year ago, after losing my job, I went to USA to recover financially. Thanks to a friend, I quickly got a job at a warehouse. The manager's name was Darius, and he was Black. It was my first week, and my English was poor, so I was trying hard to make a good impression. One day during lunch, I took out my sandwich and began eating. Darius was sitting at his computer, and I saw him pull out a banana. I remembered a YouTube video I had seen about how monkeys have a smart way of peeling bananas—from the bottom instead of the stem. I use this method myself and have recommended it to a few people. I thought it would be a great moment to impress him with this little fact. So I walked over and said, ‘Ehm...’ (my English wasn’t great, as I mentioned). Darius looked up at me, so I started explaining, ‘Monkey eat banana from other side.’ He looked confused, so I tried again, ‘Eat banana like monkey,’ while gesturing and smiling, nodding like, ‘You're welcome.’ That’s when it hit me how he must have understood that. My smile dropped, and I tried to explain, ‘No, no, no!’ but...
    ...he called my friend over to explain what I had just said, and they both shook their heads at me in disbelief.
    ...Darius burst out laughing, saying he got the joke but it was risky.
    ...Darius stood up, told me I was a racist pig, and demanded I leave the warehouse immediately.
    ...the rest of the team started laughing, thinking it was a harmless misunderstanding.
  • By Carl
    The holidays are approaching, and as always, I’m dying of curiosity to find out what my parents are getting me for Christmas. This morning, after Dad had already left for work and Mom went out to buy some bread, I took the opportunity to snoop around her Gmail to check on her recent purchases. I quickly typed 'order confirmation' into the search bar, and the first result that popped up said: Thank you for your purchase…
    …Clitoral Stimulating Vibrator.
    …ugly sweater.
    …pair of socks.
    …Kamasutra book.
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