It is a crisp spring morning with dozens of 18 and 19 year-olds (because why not?) using the playground equipment, from slides to swings. [[Join in.]] [[Go home.]] You run for the kickball diamond, but you overhear a pair of young'ins (also around your age) having a conversation. [[Listen in on the conversation.]] [[Keep running to play kickball.]]You are the absolute lamest. I worked hard on this Twine Jam game, and you don't even give enough of a damn to play it. You just decide to take the easy way out and go home. Great. What am I supposed to show for all that hard work now? May your stilts fail you while you cross over a snake pit! THE ENDUpon nearing the couple conversing, you hear laughter. [[Inquire about what's so funny.]] [[Learn that sometimes you aren't meant to be a part of fun, and go back to living your depressing life.]]"Who has time for idle chitchat? There's kickball to play!" That line of thinking runs through your mind. You dart towards the kickball diamond, ready to give it your all and play. [[Run to the kickball diamond.]] [[Skip to the kickball diamond.]]"Oh, hey there, dude. (I'm only using "dude" because you, the person playing this game, might be a man or a woman.)" The young man says. Meanwhile, the girl talking to him stifles her giggling. She asks, "Are you sure you want to know? It's pretty twisted!" What do you respond with? [["I'm game. Lemme in on the funniness!"]] [["I'm allergic to twisted things."]]Le sigh. You're too depressed to join the conversation, and now you're too depressed to play kickball. It's time to return to the only thing in the world that is a surefire way to bring joy into your life, fan art of Liza Minelli. To be positive, though, you do that better than gosh darn anyone else! THE END"Okay!" The girl excitedly exclaims. "Ahem!" The boy begins. "Want a Hurtz donut?" [[Answer yes]] [[Answer no]]"Oh, that's cool," the girl responds. "You're missing out, though," she concludes. And that moment stayed with you until the day you died. From that day to this, every time someone asked, "What's so funny?", the memories of that moment where you realized you missed out on a prime opportunity to hear a joke flashes in your mind. In fact, on your deathbed, your last thought was exactly what joke you missed out on. "What's so funny?" You will never know. Go ahead. Pat yourself on the back, smarty. You messed up. BIG TIME. THE ENDYou start bumrushing the kickball field, running with all of your might. However, you're moving so fast that you don't see a rock peeking out from the surface in front of you. You trip over it and fall face-first to the ground. You hear a familiar voice. "LOL! [writer's note: Yes, this person literally said "LOL" out loud in public without any shame.] That was a gnarly faceplant! Five stars, Tony Hawk!" You look up in your disheveled state. It is the young man who was having a conversation with a young girl. You have become the butt of a joke. Your social life is ruined, and now no one will ever want to play kickball with you ever again. That's what's so funny. And if it wasn't so pathetic, maybe you'd laugh, too. THE END Some might say that skipping to a kickball diamond would be slightly odd. However, this is year 2015, and we're over stupid thoughts like that. "Look at that kid go!" An onlooker shouts. You see a rock portruding from the ground, one that you wouldn't have otherwise seen had you had chosen to run. You gracefully skip over it and arrive at the kickball diamond. "It takes some kind of chutzpah to skip to a kickball field. I like your style," one of the team captains says to you. He continues, "I'd love for you to be on my team." What do you respond with? [["That's a mighty fine offer. I accept."]] [["I'd rather be on the all-girl team instead."]] [[Don't say anything, just laugh.]]"All right!" The male team captain says. "My name is Arnie, and the captain of the girl's team is Elaine." "Howdy!" Elaine shouts, even though she's right next to you. "We're playing four on four, no Jokers, aces are wild. You ready?" Arnie asks you. "Ready? I was born ready," you suavely respond. "That's what I like to hear!" Arnie laughs. "Okay, you're up first to "bat"! Kick one a million miles! ...Seriously though, don't kick it too far because that's our only ball." You step up to the plate. It's a ceramic plate from the Shop 'n Save U.S. Presidents line of dishware. You eye the pitcher... or whatever the heck the role of pitcher in kickball is. You see, I haven't played kickball in ages, so my terminology is a bit loose. If you think you can do better, I encourage you to do so. In fact, write your own damn Twine game about kickball to show me up. I DARE YOU. The "pitcher" throws the ball with an underhanded toss... The ball approaches you! This is it! Time to rise and shine! [[Kick the ball to the left.]] [[Kick the ball to the middle.]] [[Kick the ball to the right.]]The all-girl team captain does a chicken dance. "Don't mind Elaine," the male team captain starts. "She's known to do a chicken dance at random intervals for no real reason at all. Curiously enough, this time there was a reason." "Stuff it, Arnie!" Elaine retorts, winded from her chicken dance. "I'd be honored to have you on my team! What's your name, kid?" [[Say your name.]] [[Remain mysterious.]] The male team captain has a befuddled expression on his face as he looks at you laughing right in his face. He asks, "What's so funny, huh?" You respond, "I'd love to be on your team, too, but then I remembered I'm not a bitter loser who is reminiscent of a flamingo." The captain gasps, his entire team gasps, the other team's captain gasps, and her teammates all gasp. Heck, you gasp, too, just so you aren't left out of the gasping action. "No... No one's ever stood up to me like that before," he struggles to utter. "You are something else, kid. Something else." "Thanks," you respond back. "I wouldn't have had the courage had I not skipped here." You turn your back to both teams, marching triumphantly away from the playground. You are the champion today. Take your victory, take your "W", and go home and post a happy Facebook status about this day. THE END You smile as you respond, "My name is [insert your name here]." "Oh, awesome, [insert your name here]! Welcome to the Brooksdale Bombers!" Elaine exclaims, proud to have you on her team. "We're set to face off against Arnie's Farmington Flyers!" [Writer's note: I don't have time to finish the rest of this story, so if you chose this response as your answer, then you are very unlucky.] THE END "I am everything, and at the same time, nothing at all," you utter. "..." Elaine responds with total confusion. She then busts into an impromptu chicken dance. "Are we going to play ball, or we just going to chat?" Arnie, the other team captain (in case you've forgotten already), asks. Elaine stomps her right foot forwards and yells, "Let's do it, baldy!" Arnie clinches his fists in anger. "No one... calls... me... BALDY!" You laugh, and Arnie's attention turns to you. "What's so funny?" He asks in a deliberate tone. What do you do? [[Respond with "your mother"]] [[Respond with "you, Mr. Clean."]] BAM! You're punched right in the mouth by Arnie (if you are a guy playing this game, and if you are a woman playing this game, then for some reason Elaine decided to deck you). You fall to the ground, eating dirt. The latter isn't so bad because you DID skip breakfast, after all. "No one talks about my mom," Arnie exclaims. "Baldness runs in the family. Even on my mom's side." Before you can utter a witty retort, you fall unconscious. Your retort wasn't going to be that funny anyway, so you saved yourself from embarrassment. And that, friend, is how you learned never to be truthful when answering the question "What's so funny?" THE END BOOM! Your joke was like an uppercut to Arnie's jaw. He wasn't expecting it, and neither was anyone else! Your joke was so good that it broke the space-time continuum, making it so nothing made sense anymore! Elaine started doing her patented chicken dance, then Arnie busted out HIS version of the chicken dance. By the time you could collect yourself from laughing at your own joke (bad form, by the way), you realized EVERYONE was doing the chicken dance!!! You cry to the heavens, "DAMN YOU, POULTRY THAT SOME EAT EVEN THOUGH THEY SAY THEY ARE STRICTLY VEGETARIAN!!!" Yes, chicken had won the day, and not you after all, dear player. Maybe next time you won't be so cruel to bald men. THE END HOME RUN! You kicked the ball with such grace and power that your home decided to get up from its foundation and run away! You don't have a house to call your own now, but who cares! You just won the kickball game with one play! Luckily for you, a kickball federation talent scout was watching and decided to put you on the team! You're going to be a millionaire! THE ENDYou rush up to the ball and unleash everything you have in your leg to kick the ball. It launches into the air, flying like a ball in the air. ..Okay, that similie wasn't very good. Sue me. It starts to lose height and crater toward the ground. Since there is no one in the outfield because you're all stupidly playing with only four people on both teams, the ball drops. It's fair! "But what does fair mean?" You ponder, with fingers stroking your chin. "Does one need to have injustice in order to have fairness?" You bore the hell out of the other players with your philosophic questions. By the time you're finished exploring your deep thoughts, everyone has left the playground, it's night, and some bum stole your wallet. THE ENDYou tear your quad going for the ball with your right leg. You fall over in agony. No one really knows what to do but look at you and laugh. "What's so funny?" you pointlessly ask. You know the answer. YOU'RE funny. They're laughing because you have a serious injury, AND you failed to even make contact with the ball. You're a joke of a kickball player, but at least your name isn't Arnie. THE END"Hurts! Don't it?!" The boy yells. Unfortunately, he forgot the part where he's supposed to do something physically painful to you. The joke is a total bomb, he drops out of college, and he goes to playing guitar in a Rod Stewart tribute band. THE END"Okay, then," the boy says. You walk away. Hurtz donuts have too much sugar for you anyway. THE END