Funny Short Stories for Women

Here are yarns where women come out, if not on top, then at least even.

Funny Short Women's Stories

• Reverse Psychology?
• Thought-Provoking Story of Sand and Stone
• There's No Fury Like a Woman Scorned!
• Virginia Woolf Impersonates Emperor of Abyssinia
• Mail Order - Mail Order?
• Warning - Women's Body Parts Move!
• Battleground: Leftovers

Reverse Psychology?

Iris, my sister-in-law, is a long distance lorry driver.  She decided to get a dog for protection for the long days and nights that she was away from home.  As she studied a likely candidate, the breeder told her, 'I must warn you that he doesn't like men.' 'Perfect', Iris thought and promptly bought the dog. Some time later as she was leaving a transport café, two men approached her, in the car park, and Iris watched to see how her new 'bodyguard' would react.  It soon became clear that the breeder hadn't been joking, because as the men got closer, the dog ran under the nearest car and hid.

The Amusing and Thought-Provoking Story of Sand and Stone

This story tells of two friends, Amanda and Margot, who were walking together on the edge of the Sahara the desert in north Africa. During some point of the journey, they had an argument, and Margot slapped the other one in the face. Mandy, who got slapped, was hurt, but without saying anything, she wrote in the sand, 'Today my best friend, Margot, slapped me in the face.' They kept on walking, until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. Mandy who had been slapped, got stuck in the mire and started drowning, and naturally her friend, Margot, saved her by pulling her out of the quicksand. After she recovered from the near drowning, Mandy wrote on a stone, 'Today, my best friend Margot saved my life.' Margot who had slapped and saved her best friend, asked Mandy, 'After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand, and now, you write on a stone, why?' Mandy replied with a knowing smile, 'When someone hurts us, we should write it down in sand, where the winds of forgiveness can erase it, but when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone, so no wind can ever erase it.' Learn to write your hurts in the sand and carve your blessings in stone.

More Short Tales Where Women Come Out On Top

There's No Fury Like a Woman Scorned!

On the first day Margo packed all her belongings into boxes, crates and suitcases. On the second day, she had the movers come and collect her things. On the third day, Margo sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining room table by candlelight, put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of Chardonnay. When she had finished, she went into each an every room and deposited few half-eaten anchovies dipped in caviar down the curtain rods. When Margo's husband Ralph returned with his new girlfriend Tracey, all was bliss for the first few days. Then slowly, the house began to smell. They tried everything, cleaning, mopping, and airing the place out. Vents were checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned. Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which they had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting.....Nothing worked. People stopped coming over to visit. Repairmen refused to work in the house. The maid quit. Finally, they could not take the stench any longer and decided to move. A month later, even though they had cut their price in half, Ralph and Tracey could not find a buyer for their stinky house. Word got out, and eventually, even the local realtors refused to return their calls. Finally, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place. Then Margo called Ralph, and asked how things were going and he told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely, and said that she missed her old home terribly, and would be willing to reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for getting the house back. Knowing his ex-wife had no idea how bad the smell was, Ralph agreed on a price that was about 1/10th of what the house had been worth, but only if she were to sign the papers that very day. She agreed, and within the hour his lawyers delivered the paperwork. A week later Ralph and Tracey stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home - including the curtain rods!

Virginia Woolf Impersonates Emperor of Abyssinia

On February 10, 1910, six friends [including the young Virginia Woolf - English novelist] boarded H.M.S. Dreadnought disguised as the Emperor of Abyssinia, his Abyssinian cohorts, and an interpreter. The British Navy came out in full colours to receive their distinguished guests, who were dressed in costumes, with dyed skin and hair, and speaking a language they were inventing as they went. Virginia Woolf (circled), Duncan Grant, Horace Cole, Anthony Buxton (seated), Adrian Stephen, Guy Ridley

Another Short Story for Women

Mail / Male Order? Two Irish men, Kearney and O'Riordan were looking at a Mail order catalogue and admiring the models. Kearney remarks to O'Riordan, 'Have you seen the beautiful girls in this catalogue?' O'Riordan replies, 'Yes, they are very beautiful. And look at the price.' Kearney says, with wide eyes, 'Wow, they aren't very expensive. At this price, I'm buying one.' O'Riordan, smiles and pats him on the back. 'Good idea. Order one and if she's as beautiful as she is in the catalogue, I will get one too.' Three weeks later, Kearney, the youngest of the two asks his friend, O'Rordan, 'Did you ever receive the girl you ordered from that catalogue?' O'Riordan replies with a glint in his eye, 'No, but it shouldn't be long now. She sent all her clothes yesterday.'

Short Stories For Women

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Don't Mess with the Elderly

Doris Mason, a little old lady living in Cheltenham, England, answered a knock on the door one day, to be confronted by a well-dressed young man carrying a vacuum cleaner. 'Good morning, Ma'am,' said the young man. 'If I could take a couple minutes of your time, I would like to demonstrate the very latest in vacuum cleaners.' 'Go away!' said Doris brusquely. 'I'm broke and haven't got any money for new fangled contraptions,' and she proceeded to close the door. Quick as a flash, the young man wedged his foot in the door and pushed it wide open. 'Don't be too hasty,' he commanded. 'Not until you have at least seen my demonstration.' And with that, he emptied a bucket of horse manure onto her dining room carpet. 'Now, if this vacuum cleaner does not remove all traces of this horse manure from your carpet, Madam, I will personally eat the remainder.' Doris stepped back and said with a smile, 'Well let me get you a spoon, young man because Southern Electric cut off my power this morning.' See more retirement jokes.

A Funny Shaggy Dog Tale from the Atlanta Daily

SINGLE BLACK FEMALE seeks male companionship, ethnicity unimportant. I'm a very good looking girl who LOVES to play. I love long walks in the woods, riding in your pickup truck, hunting, camping and fishing trips, cosy winter nights lying by the fire. Candlelight dinners will have me eating out of your hand. Rub me the right way and watch me respond. I'll be at the front door when you get home from work, wearing only what nature gave me. Kiss me and I'm yours. Call (404) 875-6420 and ask for Daisy. Over 15,000 men found themselves talking to the Atlanta Humane Society about an 8-week old golden Labrador retriever dog. Men are so easy.... See more shaggy dog stories.

Warning - Women's Body Parts Move

[Open letter from Ms Peggy Legg] This is an explanation to those friends and family who have experienced mysterious switches of their body parts.  This effect is especially noticeable in January. You may have read of the scare story about the man whose kidneys were stolen while he was passed out. Well, read on. While the kidney story was an urban myth, my story is true - it occurs to me practically every day. My thighs were stolen from me during the night a few years ago.  It was just that quick. I went to sleep in my body and woke up with someone else's thighs. The new ones had the texture of cooked oatmeal. Who would have done such a cruel thing to legs that had been mine for years? Whose thighs were these and what happened to mine? I spent the entire summer looking for my thighs. Finally, hurt and angry, I resigned myself to living out my life in jeans and Sheer Energy pantyhose. Then, just when my guard was down, the thieves struck again. My butt was next. I know it was the same gang, because they took pains to match my new rear end (although badly attached at least three inches lower than my original) to the thighs they stuck me with earlier. Now, my rear end complimented my legs, lump for lump. Frantic, I prayed that long skirts would stay in fashion. It was two years ago when I realized my arms had been switched. One morning I was fixing my hair and I watched horrified but fascinated as the flesh of my upper arms swung to and fro with the motion of the hairbrush. This was really getting scary. My body was being replaced one section at a time. How clever and fiendish. Age? Age had nothing to do with it. Age is supposed to reap, unnoticed, something like maturity. NO, I was being attacked repeatedly and without warning. In despair I gave up my T-shirts. What could they do to me next? My poor neck disappeared more quickly than the Thanksgiving turkey it now resembled. That's why I decided to tell my story. I can't take on the medical profession by myself. Women of the world, wake up and smell the coffee. That really isn't plastic that those surgeons are using. You KNOW where they are getting those replacement part, don't you? The next time you suspect someone has had a face ' lifted', look again. Was it lifted from you? I think I finally found my thighs...and I hope Cindy Crawford paid a really good price for them! This is not a hoax. This is happening to women in every town every night. WARN YOUR FRIENDS. Yours alarmed Peggy Legg

Gone Fishing

Alex had a terrible day fishing on the lake, sitting in the blazing sun all day without catching a single one.  On his way home, he stopped at the fishmonger and ordered four rainbow trout.  He told the fishmonger, 'Pick four large ones out and throw them at me, will you?' 'Why do you want me to throw them at you?'  Asked the salesman?' So that I am able to tell my wife, in all honesty, that I caught them', said Alex. 'Okay, but I suggest that you take the salmon.' Why's that? 'Because your wife came in earlier today and said that if you came by, I should tell you to take salmon.  That's what she'd like for supper tonight', replied the fishmonger with a grin.

Another Short Story Women Can Relate to their Cooking Experience

Here is an original story from my favourite living author.

Battleground: Leftovers By Charlene Wexler

"The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for 30 years she served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been found."  - Calvin Trillin In a restaurant, if I turned to talk with the friends we were dining with or went to the ladies' room, my plate of food would disappear. No, it wasn't that the waiters were so efficient. It was my husband, Sam, who was packing up our half-eaten orders to make sure we had leftovers at home. Sam came from a family in which plates were cleaned and no food was ever thrown out. I came from a family in which it was good manners to leave something on your plate, and leftovers were sometimes eaten the next day, but just as often thrown out. Our differences concerning leftovers were not as troubling when there were two growing boys and a dog in the family. But now that we are retired empty nesters, leftovers have become a battleground. I could be happy that Sam's attitude minimizes my need to cook. If I make a meal from scratch one day a week and we eat out two, Sam can stretch the leftovers to cover our meals for the rest of the week, or even more. Although I may be required to make the leftover chicken into a pot pie, the leftover beef into chop suey, or the bread that is about to turn green into French toast. I can handle converting leftovers into another meal, but I can't handle watching them turn moldy. I've tried to tell Sam that the cat ate the food, but that line doesn't work the way it did when we had dogs. That darn cat won't touch any people food but tuna, and Sam knows it. Many mornings are spent with Sam asking, "Did you throw out my ...?" Usually, I actually didn't. It is just that the refrigerator is so packed with styrofoam or aluminum foil containers that he can't find what he is looking for. Then, once every two weeks, I brace myself for a fight and clean out the refrigerator in anticipation of new leftovers. There must be a leftover gene. On the day of my marriage, my mother-in-law was busy packing wedding food into her shopping bag; the refrigerator at my son Mike's house is full of styrofoam and aluminum foil containers. "After 45 years I guess I can't change Sam," I said to myself recently as I munched on week-old chocolate cake. I don't consider chocolate in the leftover category.

See more writing by Charlene Wexler »

Footnote: Please send us your short stories for women.