Advertise on podcast: HumorUs Stories — Classic and Original Funny Stories

Somebody left a paperback on the bus. A man brings it home, settles into his easy-chair, and makes a discovery the rest of us have missed: Earth has been invaded, and the author knows all about it. The proof is right there on the page, and it gets worse with every chapter. He wrote to the Government. They sent back a pamphlet on the repair and maintenance of frame houses. A comic gem from 1953 by Philip K. Dick, the mind behind Blade Runner, Total Recall, and Minority Report. Follow HumorUs and each new story will show up in your library as soon as it's released. No searching, no remembering. This show is one corner of Short Storyverses, a family of fiction podcasts. Some lean literary. Some are funny. Some will keep you up with the lights on, and some belong by the fire in December. There are classics nobody reads anymore and should, and original stories you won't hear anywhere else. They're all read by Don McDonald from his studio booth, and all short enough to finish on a drive, a walk, or a sleepless night. Come explore at shortstoryverses.com. Pick a universe. Stay a while. Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Wall Street, a spring morning at the turn of the century. The ticker is running hot, the telephone won’t quit, and Harvey Maxwell, broker, is handling it all like a man with springs where his heart should be. His clerk thinks the boss is slipping. His stenographer has something on her mind. Then a window opens, and somebody on the Exchange starts clubbing the stuffing out of Union Pacific. O. Henry at full gallop, in a nine-minute comedy from The Four Million, read by Don McDonald. HumorUs is part of the Short Storyverses network of fiction podcasts. More stories, more feeds, at shortstoryverses.com. Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Every house party has a guest who knows too much. A mild little man named Cornelius Appin has spent seventeen years on one problem. He believes he's solved it: he has taught a cat to speak. The company around Lady Blemley's tea table does not believe him — and that, as it happens, is the last comfortable moment anyone in the house will enjoy. Pour yourself some tea. Mind the saucer. Saki was the pen name of Hector Hugh Munro (1870–1916), the sharpest wit of the Edwardian age. Born in Burma and raised in Devon by a grandmother and two aunts he could not abide, he became a foreign correspondent before turning his pen on polite society. He borrowed his pen name from the cupbearer in the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. When war came in 1914, he enlisted as a private at forty-three and refused a commission; he was killed by a sniper in France on November 14, 1916. His last words were “Put that bloody cigarette out.” “Tobermory” first appeared in the Westminster Gazette in 1909 and was collected in The Chronicles of Clovis in 1911. Read by Don McDonald. HumorUs is part of the Short Storyverses network. shortstoryverses.com If you enjoyed this one, tell a friend, subscribe on your favorite podcast app, and leave a review. It genuinely helps. Also, check out my multiple short story universes at shortstoryverses.com Find more stories at ShortStoryverses.com — a multiverse of audio fiction spanning seven shows: classics on LitReading, original voices on New Tales Told, children's stories on Readastorus, holiday tales on Season's Readings, horror on FRIGHTLY!, romance on Love Lit, and comedy on HumorUs. Every story sized to fit a commute, a walk, or the quiet stretch before sleep. We have stories buried everywhere. Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Nobody in New Orleans had ever made Bernard de Marigny look foolish in public. He was rich past counting, small as a foil, and very likely the most dangerous man in Louisiana with a pistol in his hand. Then a blacksmith from a far parish, seven feet of him and slow to speak, said something true on the floor of the legislature, and the whole chamber laughed. The card came to the forge two days later. The blacksmith was no duelist. He was, however, a man who had spent his life learning where something hard gives. From Short Storyverses. More at shortstoryverses.com. Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

A man in a country pub insists his story is true. It concerns his brother Wilfred, a chemist of some genius, a jolly outdoor girl with a wholesome sunburn, and a Yorkshire baronet who spells his name with four small f's. Somebody is being kept behind a locked door on the second floor. Somebody else is about to regret asking what's true to life. This is P.G. Wodehouse, 1926, at his most gleefully unreliable. First published in Liberty, August 7, 1926; collected in Meet Mr. Mulliner, 1927. Read by Don McDonald. HumorUs is part of the Short Storyverses network. shortstoryverses.com Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

An errand, a name, a question. That's all it takes. Sent east to west on a friend's behalf, a traveler walks into a decayed mining camp in Calaveras County and asks one polite question of one agreeable old man. He is then backed into a corner, blockaded there with a chair, and told at enormous length about Jim Smiley, a gambler who would bet on a horse race, a dog fight, a camp meeting, or two birds on a fence, and who once spent three solid months in his back yard teaching a frog to jump. The frog's name was Dan'l Webster. He was, by every account, the finest jumper in the county. Then a stranger came through camp. Mark Twain published this in the fall of 1865 and woke up famous. Sixty years of American humor start here, on a barroom floor, with forty dollars on the line. Mark Twain was the pen name of Samuel Langhorne Clemens, born in Missouri in 1835. Printer's devil, riverboat pilot, and, briefly and disastrously, a silver prospector. He went west in 1861 chasing a fortune he never found, and came back with something better, which was a way of hearing how Americans actually talked. He heard this story in a tavern in Angels Camp in the winter of 1865, wrote it down, and watched it run in a New York paper that November. It was reprinted everywhere, pirated almost as fast, and read aloud in parlors and barrooms coast to coast. He was thirty and unknown that fall. By spring he was Mark Twain. Tom Sawyer was still eleven years away. If you enjoyed this one, tell a friend, subscribe on your favorite podcast app, and leave a review. It genuinely helps. Also, check out my multiple short story universes at shortstoryverses.com Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

A December afternoon, a fire going down, and a marriage stalled halfway through a quarrel nobody bothered to finish. Egbert comes in for tea prepared to be reasonable, then conciliatory, then almost penitent. Lady Anne, rigid in the armchair by the tea table, declines to participate. Somewhere above them a bullfinch works through the only tune it knows, and on the rug a Persian cat named Don Tarquinio waits with the patience of an animal who has already decided something. Saki at his most precise: eleven minutes of drawing-room comedy built entirely out of one person not speaking, and a closing line that reorganizes everything you just heard. "The Reticence of Lady Anne" was collected in Reginald in Russia and Other Sketches (1910). Read by Don McDonald. Litreading is part of Short Storyverses. shortstoryverses.com Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Duke is a little old dog with a pessimistic worldview and a well-earned suspicion that life rarely improves. Gipsy is a rangy, scarred, yellow-eyed stray cat who lives by his own code and has never met a creature he could not intimidate. When Gipsy helps himself to a fishbone resting near Duke's sleeping nose, the afternoon explodes into a comic war of nerves, claws, and theatrical yelping that draws every boy in the neighborhood running to witness the spectacle. Booth Tarkington, one of only three writers to win two Pulitzer Prizes for Fiction, brings his gift for sharp character comedy to this brief, savage encounter between two animals who understand each other perfectly. The battle is brief, the casualties are mostly to dignity, and the ending involves a cistern, a miscalculation, and one of the most memorable splashes in American humor. Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Arnold Thorndike buys a Correggio before breakfast and can price his own time to the minute. Two hundred dollars of it. So when he stops his car at the Court of General Sessions to say a word for a young stenographer who got drunk, lost five hundred dollars of his employer's money, and is due up for sentence, he figures the errand will run him about a thousand. The court has other ideas. Richard Harding Davis, the most famous reporter of his generation, sets the Wisest Man in Wall Street down on a hard oak chair and leaves him there, unrecognized and unimportant, admitted only because he's "with Mr. Andrews," while the whole sorry parade of the city files past the bench. This is a comedy of manners with a soft heart. If you enjoy well-narrated short stories, check out our many story-telling podcasts at shortstoryverses.com Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Ransie and Ariela Bilbro come down out of the Cumberland Mountains to have their marriage undone. Justice of the Peace Benaja Widdup can find no law on the subject, so he invents one, and prices it at five dollars, which happens to be every cent Ransie made on his furs. Then Ariela wants alimony. What follows is a night ride, a masked man, a bill rolled tight and pushed down a rifle barrel, and a decree that nobody much wants by morning. O. Henry watches a single five-dollar bill travel in a perfect circle, and two stubborn people get carried around with it. A love story for anyone who ever meant it when they said they were leaving. Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In Maple Glen, nothing ever happens. This week, nothing happens in three separate backyards, after dark, and everyone involved would prefer you didn't ask. A deadpan comedy about honesty, neighbors, and one very patient dog. Find more stories at ShortStoryverses.com — a multiverse of audio fiction spanning seven shows: classics on LitReading, original voices on New Tales Told, children's stories on Readastorus, holiday tales on Season's Readings, horror on FRIGHTLY!, romance on Love Lit, and comedy on HumorUs. Every story sized to fit a commute, a walk, or the quiet stretch before sleep. We have stories buried everywhere. Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Mark Twain had a bone to pick with the Sunday-school storybook — that pious little genre where good children are showered with rewards and bad children are struck by lightning, broken by apple trees, and buried under weeping relatives by the final page. So he wrote two stories to set the record straight. In this paired episode we run both, back-to-back, framed like an old-time radio hour. First, The Story of the Good Little Boy: meet Jacob Blivens, who obeys his parents, learns his book, never plays hooky, and longs above all else to be printed in a Sunday-school book of his own — funeral illustration and all. There is only one small problem. The world has not read the same books Jacob has, and it declines, spectacularly, to cooperate. Then, in counterpoint, The Story of the Bad Little Boy: meet Jim — not "James," though the books would prefer it — who steals the jam, robs the orchard, frames the good boy, boats on Sunday without drowning, and grows up to prosper by every kind of rascality. His luck, like Jacob's misfortune, never quite runs out. Twain's targets are sentimentality, easy moralizing, and the comfortable lie that the universe keeps a fair ledger. Told with a wink and a warm lamp, this is satire that still lands a century and a half on. Be good if it suits you. Be careful regardless. Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Atop Orange Mountain, in Mr. Jacobus's summer boarding house, a bored married couple finds relief from their tiresome fellow guests in the arrival of the Bredes — a graceful, good-looking young pair who seem, in every visible way, to be "nice people." But their charming small talk keeps springing leaks. Henry Cuyler Bunner (1855–1896) was a poet, novelist, and the longtime editor of the humor magazine *Puck*, celebrated for polished short stories that find real feeling inside social comedy. "The Nice People" is one of his warmest — a story about gossip, appearances, and the whole hidden other side of people that we never see from the heights of our own self-esteem.  Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

O. Henry usually saves his surprises for the last line. This time he starts with one: the narrator is a dog. In *The Memoirs of a Yellow Dog*, a mangy, good-natured mutt gives us his candid review of apartment life, married humans, and the fine art of knowing when it's time to go. Wry, tender, and very funny — it's a small classic told from just below the dinner table. Few writers could make a stray dog sound this much like a philosopher. O. Henry's yellow dog sees his humans clearly, loves them anyway, and still knows a good exit when he smells one. It's humor with a soft heart underneath. Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This is a parable set in a village where things run smoothly—because they always have. Problems are addressed. Responsibilities are shared. And when questions arise, there is a structure in place to handle them. Over time, that structure has grown more refined, more comprehensive… and more ridiculous.. Despite a few suspicious reviews, every story you hear is narrated by an actual human—me, Don McDonald. If you enjoy the show, please rate it five stars and help me prove I’m not AI—which is, admittedly, exactly what AI would ask you to do. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.