Writing Forums is a privately-owned, community managed writing environment. We provide an unlimited opportunity for writers and poets of all abilities, to share their work and communicate with other writers and creative artists. We offer an experience that is safe, welcoming and friendly, regardless of your level of participation, knowledge or skill. There are several opportunities for writers to exchange tips, engage in discussions about techniques, and grow in your craft. You can also participate in forum competitions that are exciting and helpful in building your skill level. There's so much more for you to explore!

I don't try just humor very often, but... (1 Viewer)


Senior Member
I've recently been trying my hand at flash fiction humor. I'd appreciate your thoughts. :welcome:

I was so ready to be a cosmonaut, but my dad, as usual, is a total jackwagon about everything.
“Don’t activate the self-destruct mechanism, my son. It blows up the ship!” He said. How does he know? If he tried it he’d be dead.
“Dad, thanks, but I’m eighteen, I sorta know what I’m doing,” I say, realizing my argument to perfection. Of course I know what I’m doing. I’m an adult now!
As usual, he just shakes his head. “Son, what does ‘self’ have to do with?”
“Me?” I say as I turn to the platform.
“And what does ‘destruct’ have to do with?”
“… Dad, please.”
“Yes, son. Self-destruct literally means you’ll destroy yourself if you press it,” he says, raising those stupid, bushy eyebrows of his.
“Well that’s just your opinion, dad. Why don’t you try being a little more open minded. It could destruct your selfish cosmonaut agenda!
“You-you’ve been listening to the capitalist broadcasts, have you?”
“Yeah, I’ve listened to Linken park, MCR, and all the great bands. You’ve kept me in the dark all this time!” I say, now at the top of the platform and entering the ship.
“Son, no!”
“Goodbye dad, you were horrible,” I say as I push into the commodore deck a black-market rip of “Welcome to the Black Parade”, AKA the best song in the universe.
“Son, trust me! Don’t do it!” he cries as I pushed the launch-ready button. As the countdown booms, I push play and wave my dad goodbye. He’s freaking out, but he has to get away or the blast will fry him. Freedom is finally mine. I can finally make my own mistakes. I sing to the music as I flip open the “self-destruct” switch. It’s obviously not, the broadcasts said it would give me ultimate cosmic power, and that’s what spaces ships are really for.


Senior Member
Pretty much every argument between my father and brother. :lol: Spot on representation of teenage rebellion. Linkin Park is my favourite band and it seems you like MCR too? I noticed a lot of the terminology you used seemed to be from the USSR or something similar. If so, the rest of the phrasing seems a little too "Yankee". Otherwise, good job!

Green Rabbit

Senior Member
I liked this story quite a bit. I'm old enough to have been both the kid and the dad in this story. There are quite a few minor typos in this story but I'm sure you'll clean them up. It's a good thing every son who thinks they know more than their dad doesn't press self-destruct buttons, otherwise none of us would be left. :)

Users who are viewing this thread