Ouch Funny Quotes

Zee replies grimly, 'I understand that problem...Buns is a force of nature.' 'She is,' I say with a reluctant smile, 'you're kind of screwed, dude. She's definitely got her own ideas.' Zee grins too. 'Do not laugh too hard, playa, yours is a Throne..karma...' he says, noddin' his head before grimacin' and addin', 'ouch'. My smile broadens involuntarily. 'Zee, when did you become funny?' I ask. 'It is difficult to be funny in Human,' he says, before lookin' at his watch and than graspin' the cover of the portal computer. 'Learn my language and you will think I am hysterical.

Next time she flew off a cliff, she would try to remember to wear her worsted skirts. Perhaps then, ouch, she would not have to suffer additional bruising.

She's in the Catskill," Shopie began, but Scathach reached over and pinched her hand. "Ouch!" I just wanted to distract you," Scathach explained. "Don't even think about Black Annis. There are some names that should never be spoken aloud." That like saying don't think of elephants, Josh said, "and then all you can think about is elephants." Then let me give you something else to think about," Scathach said softly. "There are two police officers in the window staring at us. Don't look," she added urgently. Too late. Josh turned to look and whatever crossed his face--shock, horror, guilt or fear--bought both officers racing into the cafe, one pulling his automatic from its holster, the other speaking urgently into his radio as he drew his baton.

I shrugged. “Actually, I didn’t tell her much of anything. She must’ve put two and two together all on her own and come up with you being a jerk face.” His gaze slid back to me and he grinned. “Ouch, shortie.” “Yeah, like that really bothered you.” I glanced back through the small window in the door that led to bio. Mr. Tucker was already at his desk—was Mrs. Cleo ever coming back?—and we only had a minute, tops, before the tardy bell rang. “What did you want?” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a thin slip of yellow paper, waving it in my face. “Guess what I found?” “Obviously not a better personality,” I remarked. “Ha. Funny.” He brushed the edge of the paper across my nose and smiled when I smacked it away.

All I have to do is shoot! In my excitement, I throw the ball down with more force than ever, feeling bad-ass. It ricochets off the floor at an angle and slams right into my crotch. All around me, the room goes, “Ohhhh!” I look up. Every face is staring at me, contorted into winces. Right. Ball in crotch equals excruciating pain. I’m such an idiot! Too late, I double over in pain. “Ouch!” I yell. I sneak a glance around. Nobody looks convinced, so I add, “My balls!

Can you promise he’s not going to split the planet open like an egg?” “Oh,” Arthur said. “I highly doubt it. You see, he’s still learning how to crack chicken eggs properly, so I expect it’ll be quite some time before he’s ready for planetary destruction.” Every dace stared up at him in shock. “Remember what I told you about your sense of humor?” Linus hissed at him. “Now is not the time to try and be funny!” “Try,” Arthur huffed. “Ouch.” He raised his voice once more. “That was a poor attempt at humor. My apologies. To answer your question, Earth will not be destroyed today.” “Or anytime in the future,” Linus added loudly.

No, seriously, you go first. I hardly know this guy. What if he’s working with the people who took Liz?’ ‘Pete?’ Shane shook his head, evidently finding the whole thought funny, though Claire felt it had been a pretty reasonable caution. ‘Never happen. But okay. I’ll protect you.’ She hit him in the shoulder. ‘I don’t need you to protect me.’ ‘Then why am I going first?’ ‘So you can take the first punch while I throw the second?’ ‘So I’m bait? Ouch. You’ve been in Morganville way too long, girl.

Hm. What to do, at this point? Keep going was the only answer Nico had ever known. Failure, stopping, ceasing to be or do was never an option. He gritted his teeth, shivering with a chill or a shudder of power that left him like an expulsive, painful sneeze. Ouch, fuck, bless you, the sort of burst that could ultimately break a rib or burst a blood vessel, which most people were not aware a sneeze could do. Funny how that worked; the innocent fragility of being human. There were so many ways to break and do few of them heroic or noble.

Mom?” Then again, louder. “Mom?” She turned around so quickly, she knocked the pan off the stove and nearly dropped the gray paper into the open flame there. I saw her reach back and slap her hand against the knobs, twisting a dial until the smell of gas disappeared. “I don’t feel good. Can I stay home today?” No response, not even a blink. Her jaw was working, grinding, but it took me walking over to the table and sitting down for her to find her voice. “How—how did you get in here?” “I have a bad headache and my stomach hurts,” I told her, putting my elbows up on the table. I knew she hated when I whined, but I didn’t think she hated it enough to come over and grab me by the arm again. “I asked you how you got in here, young lady. What’s your name?” Her voice sounded strange. “Where do you live?” Her grip on my skin only tightened the longer I waited to answer. It had to have been a joke, right? Was she sick, too? Sometimes cold medicine did funny things to her. Funny things, though. Not scary things. “Can you tell me your name?” she repeated. “Ouch!” I yelped, trying to pull my arm away. “Mom, what’s wrong?” She yanked me up from the table, forcing me onto my feet. “Where are your parents? How did you get in this house?” Something tightened in my chest to the point of snapping. “Mom, Mommy, why—” “Stop it,” she hissed, “stop calling me that!” “What are you—?” I think I must have tried to say something else, but she dragged me over to the door that led out into the garage. My feet slid against the wood, skin burning. “Wh-what’s wrong with you?” I cried. I tried twisting out of her grasp, but she wouldn’t even look at me. Not until we were at the door to the garage and she pushed my back up against it. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I know you’re confused, but I promise that I’m not your mother. I don’t know how you got into this house, and, frankly, I’m not sure I want to know—” “I live here!” I told her. “I live here! I’m Ruby!” When she looked at me again, I saw none of the things that made Mom my mother. The lines that formed around her eyes when she smiled were smoothed out, and her jaw was clenched around whatever she wanted to say next. When she looked at me, she didn’t see me. I wasn’t invisible, but I wasn’t Ruby. “Mom.” I started to cry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be bad. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! Please, I promise I’ll be good—I’ll go to school today and won’t be sick, and I’ll pick up my room. I’m sorry. Please remember. Please!” She put one hand on my shoulder and the other on the door handle. “My husband is a police officer. He’ll be able to help you get home. Wait in here—and don’t touch anything.” The door opened and I was pushed into a wall of freezing January air. I stumbled down onto the dirty, oil-stained concrete, just managing to catch myself before I slammed into the side of her car. I heard the door shut behind me, and the lock click into place; heard her call Dad’s name as clearly as I heard the birds in the bushes outside the dark garage. She hadn’t even turned on the light for me. I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, ignoring the bite of the frosty air on my bare skin. I launched myself in the direction of the door, fumbling around until I found it. I tried shaking the handle, jiggling it, still thinking, hoping, praying that this was some big birthday surprise, and that by the time I got back inside, there would be a plate of pancakes at the table and Dad would bring in the presents, and we could—we could—we could pretend like the night before had never happened, even with the evidence in the next room over. The door was locked. “I’m sorry!” I was screaming. Pounding my fists against it. “Mommy, I’m sorry! Please!” Dad appeared a moment later, his stocky shape outlined by the light from inside of the house. I saw Mom’s bright-red face over his shoulder; he turned to wave her off and then reached over to flip on the overhead lights.

Jane got tired of sitting near them and moved, closer to the jarhead. He seemed to be minding his own business, maybe he’d leave her alone. But the jarhead leaned in when she sat, a conspiratorial smile playing across his handsome features. “Didn’t know that when you built up enough seniority at the strip club, you get Tuesdays off, did you?” “Ouch,” Jane replied. “That’s kind of harsh.” The man blushed and Jane felt bad. “Harsh, but funny. They’re a trip. I hope I’m never so ridiculous in public when I decide to get married.” The

man goes to the doctor and says, “Doctor, wherever I touch, it hurts.” The doctor asks, “What do you mean?” The man says, “When I touch my shoulder, it really hurts. If I touch my knee – OUCH! When I touch my forehead, it really, really hurts.” The doctor says, “I know what’s wrong with you – you’ve broken your finger!

He sighed. "Why do you think you're a werewolf." Jo took a deep breath. "I don't feel the cold. I can run very fast. I have acute senses. I heal quickly and for five days around a full moon, I'm desperate for sex and can never get enough." She looked straight at him. "What do you think?" "Well, I have heard your horrible howl." He shuddered. Jo hit him. "Ouch. Okay, turn round," he said. "Why?" "I want to see if you've got a tail." "Very funny." Alek smirked. "Yeah, it is. Do you like to stick your head out of the car window when you're going fast?

Would you look at you two? What's the special occa-ouch!

Ouch. You okay?" "Yeah, I think so. Slept weird last night." He regrets the words as soon as they come out Is this what passes for a pickup line in your thirties? Complaining about back pain?

This is me, walking away.” He slid past me, his body low to the ground, his ears flattened, jaw clenched. “Very funny. Jovis make big jokes when he can’t face big feelings.” Ouch. So maybe that was true. “Can’t you be small again and talk less?” I said. “You were very sweet back then.” He clacked his teeth together. “Even ossalen grow up.” “Grow up into what?” His ears flew forward, his eyes wide. He cocked his head at me. “Don’t know.” I ventured to scratch his cheeks, though he swerved away from me, still not ready to forgive. “The right thing to do is go dack— back.” He was speaking strangely. “Mephi,” I said, exasperated. “Not again. Not now.” I seized his big head in my hands. “Drop it before you choke.” He narrowed his brown eyes at me, but his jaw shifted and I saw a bulge in his cheek. “Drop. It.” He spat something onto the ground. “I found it. It’s mine now,” he said by way of explanation.

Were you injured?' 'Would you fret with worry if I was?' The corners of my lips turned down. No? Yes? 'Not particularly.' 'Ouch.' He pressed a hand to his chest. 'You wound me yet again.' 'He's not wounded,' Kieran answered. 'At least, not physically. Emotionally, I believed you left him shredded.' I rolled my eyes. 'Then why ask if he's okay if he's not hurt?' Kieran started to reply, but Casteel beat him to it. 'He's a worrywart. Constantly fearing that I've been injured or that I've overexerted myself. Wanting to know if I've gotten eight hours of rest and eaten three square meals a day.' 'Yeah, that's exactly it,' Kieran replied drolly.

The funny thing is, they'll all go," said Raffix with a smile. "All the knights and all the squires promoted to replace them. Every last one of them." He smiled ruefully. "Even me." "But why?" said Quint. "I mean, if you doubt Hax..." "Because, my dear chap, this is the Knights Academy," Raffix replied. "We were born to stormchase.

It was OK. Except for the whole no-bathroom thing. And the part where I kept hitting myself in the thumb with a hammer." - Mia Thermopolis (The Atom, School Newspaper)

on 20 April – funnily enough, the same day as Hitler’s birthday – they pulled me out of my mother’s vagina with forceps because she couldn’t be bothered to push, cut the only authentic connection I ever had to her, and slapped my ass until I screamed. They wrapped me up in a cheap tea towel and whisked me away to the baby room so my drunk father could try to wave at me. And just in case that wasn’t enough trauma, the next morning the very same doctor placed himself between my legs and removed my foreskin. Ouch! Why were they clamping my penis and hacking into it with a blade? Apparently this was just so I could ‘look like Daddy’. The worst thing is, I didn’t get a say in it at all. Mongrels. It wasn’t long before my boozed-up daddy, with the neighbour’s tipsy seventeen-year-old daughter under his arm, was at the hospital, standing beside me and my pretty mother. Despite being drained from giving birth and having her lady bits hanging in tatters beneath her, I have no doubt that Mum looked stunning. She always made a point of wearing lippy. Dad bent over and covered me with his beer breath, declaring, ‘We’re going to call him Bradley.

She’s as dead as they come. I’ve never seen deader. That golem swallowed her down whole. Gulp! Smack of the lips! Gone. Sad, but still, nothing to be worrying yourself about all these years later.…” I petered out here. I didn’t like the look in his eyes. Mandrake nodded slowly. Red swathes of anger competed with white blotches for possession of his face. It was a tie, a fifty/fifty split. “Swallowed whole, was it?” he said. “Funny, I seem to remember you said the golem burned her to a crisp.” “Oh, did I? Yes, well, he did that too. First. Before the swallowing bit—ouch!