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Dark Humor Quotes

Browse 331 quotes about Dark Humor.

Dark Humor Quotes

“IT IS SO CURIOUS how hearing something once in your youth can dictate a thought pattern all the way through your life. I was nine, a man said something nonchalantly, and now when I see a slate at age thirty-six, as far as I'm concerned, its primary use is for beheading boys. Once that's done it can be used for roofing.”

BehaviorMemoryAssociationDark HumorNeurons
Book:Mother. Wife. Sister. Human. Warrior. Falcon. Yardstick. Turban. Cabbage.
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“Aubergine, Auberga, Life Goes On by Stewart Stafford The Devil is in the oxtails, A foetus lacking the superb, Granny Smith or Granny Shit, Modulation without the reverb. A penguin picked up gingerly, Unaware what had hit his ice, A Matterhorn tuxedo Cha-Cha, Casinoed fits from tumbling dice. O, to have knees of broccoli! Each eye a glittering ruby grape, A peacenik parsley neck surrender, Florid garnish to an eggplant nape. Forgive me if I go daydreaming, Your déjà vu’s recurring nightmare, An offer of hunger strike insomnia, A gun-to-the-head vigil with flair. © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

SatireDark HumorParodyContemporary PoetryAbsurdismThe BeatlesBody HorrorBlack ComedySurreal PoetryOb La Di
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Shank off, you faithless skiv!” “Then say my name,” Taein said as he rose and adjusted his coat. “You know exactly who I am.” “You’re the Unkillable Kid—” The mugger said through a froth of blood, his squirming growing weaker. Taein picked him up by the lapels and drew the mugger’s face so close he could see the broken blood vessels in his eyes. “Say. My. Name.” “Taein,” Big said, and he burst into tears. And Taein he was, after all. He was the prince of purloining, scourge of the streets, survivor against all natural odds, reckless to the point of delusion. He was Taein, survivor of the BlackBlades, the Unkillable Kid himself, (or unkillable as far as he knew, at least), and if a good thrashing was all that could beat back the numbness anymore, even just for a few adrenaline-soaked moments, so be it. It was better to feel anything other than his usual state of abysmal emptiness—even pain—because that emptiness haunted him like a starving child, dogging his heels every waking minute, leaching through his very bloodstream as a hard frost crawls along a windowpane. He was Taein—terror of thieves, conductor of chaos, sweetheart of spite—and if brushing hands with death was all that could shake him halfway to life anymore, so be it.”

Dark FantasyDark HumorEpic FantasyGrimdarkChaotic GoodGrimdark Humor
Book:Prince of Glass: Remastered
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“Some Cutting Advice by Stewart Stafford Before you pick up your knife, To run your enemy through, Know the entry wound bleeds red, And the exit thrust bleeds blue. Not because they are of noble birth, But they are protected by a mighty hand, Not just of those moneyed and influential, But the mightiest hands in all the land. So stab with caution, I urge you, For the blade jabs back in your gut, Swallow the bile that fuels you so, Lest it be your throat you cut. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

AdvicePlotWarningPersuasionCautionDark HumorAssassinationDark HumourStabJulius Caesar
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“The Baudelaire orphans hung on to one another, and wept and wept while the adults argued endlessly behind them. Finally-as, I'm sorry to say, Count Olaf forced the Quagmires into puppy costumes so he could sneak them onto the airplane without anyone noticing-the Baudelaires cried themselves out and just sat on the lawn together in weary silence.”

AbsurdDark HumorRandomCruelLemony SnicketBlack HumorA Series Of Unfortunate EventsThe Austere AcademyPuppy Costumes
Book:The Austere Academy
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“Joshua took another small sip from his wine glass as his gaze and his thoughts drifted away from the flat-screen television mounted above the marbled fireplace to ponder a roomful of sports jackets and pantsuits and in some cases cocktail dresses but only of neutral tones and minimal detailing if for no other reason than to avoid becoming the subject of the next petty scandal that would nevertheless send shockwaves through their haughty and insular world. The way they stood in their intimate clusters. Their drink glasses held in various poses of sophistication. And whenever they did bring glass to mouth in accordance with judiciously preset intervals it was also for show, as he believed was true of their subdued conversations, which, from where he was sitting, appeared to be nothing more than the unintelligible murmurings of barely moving lips. A whole list of observations came to mind. Not one of them flattering in any way. The atmosphere thick with that certain stuffiness and elitist redolence of an ivy league alumni fundraising gala. Of course, he readily admitted to himself that out of everyone in the room he was very likely the most materially bereft and least credentialed and that this stinging truth undoubtedly inflamed his plebeian impulse. But that’s not what was bugging him.”

Dark HumorSocial CommentaryWhimsicalWhimsySocial CriticismCultural CritiqueSocial CritiqueCultural CriticismDark Humor QuotesSocial Commentary Satire
Book:The Subtle Cause
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“Oh, I don’t know,” Karen groaned, feeling suddenly very feisty. “I just don’t think anyone with a loose appendage swinging between their legs—which we know corresponds to a loose screw in the brain—could ever be trusted with something as delicate as the well-being of someone not similarly encumbered.”

Dark HumorFeminist QuotesFeminism QuotesSocial CriticismPenis HumorCultural CritiqueSocial CritiqueCultural CriticismDark Humor QuotesFeminism Patriarchy
Book:The Subtle Cause
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“The words on that hazy, pixelated monitor were burned into my brain. Obviously not exactly what he'd intended to say, but I understood well enough what he was suggesting. I’d just attempted the weakest bribe of all time to a post-Soviet officer.”

Dark HumorAwkward MomentsCulture ShockBorder CrossingTravel StoriesReality Of TravelTrue AdventureUnfiltered TravelWanderlust Chronicles
Book:Jet Lag Junkie: Unfiltered Tales of a Compulsive Wanderer
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“Treacle looked interested. "I used to think like that too--get caught up in the endless cycle of crushing despair and existential dread. Now I'm starting to see it a little like this jawbreaker. Terrible on the outside. But if you get a little deeper? Still terrible. But below that? Terrible. But eventually you get to a point where it isn't terrible. At least I think so. I haven't made it that far yet. Point is, it can't be all bad. Probably. Unless it is. Oh no...I'm starting to feel the existential dread coming on again. We're all doomed, aren't we, Inga?”

HumorCandyDark HumorExistential DreadInga Thosa TherianJawbreakerTreacle Glimmerhappy
Book:Shadowcroft Academy for Dungeons
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“To those who claim I lack respect for the human race — I will say that, after all, I removed the phrase ‘depressed neurotic monkeys’ from all the places in the book; and not just because I like and respect monkeys. What does that tell you?”

Artificial IntelligenceDark HumorDebut NovelExistential FictionSatirical FictionAuthor Q AAlexander PetrowScifi SatireThe Weather Forecast In Hell
Book:The Weather Forecast in Hell
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“The Bad Halloween: A Crazies Night Chronicle by Stewart Stafford I'm Rich—ambulance medic on Crazies Night, Demented chariot driver in the mediverse, Skeleton crew for swarms of ailing impostors, Our dashboard crucifix, buffeting every curse. Jittery, side-burned Jeff riding shotgun, I tease his grumbling about missing fun: "A toast with your Pumpkin Spice Latte! Breakfast on me when our shift is done." Behind us, a female living portrait groaned— Drunk or high, headfirst, she kissed the road. Mona Lisa frame unmounted for treatment, delirious spoilers dropped for The Da Vinci Code! Death's Reaper stood daring us in our path; graveyard shift, centre line, gleaming scythe. Brakes jammed, sirens blared, the prank waned— This gothic vigilante traffic cop waved us by! We dropped Patient Moaner at the hospital, Jeff smoked, and I ate canteen Colcannon, Our "bat signal" crackled, flashed in the cab: "Cosplay brawl at the Hotel Shannon." We drove off for more Boo-Boo Bus Bedlam to hit our Gotham's streets and tend the injured. Catherine wheel jack-o-lantern through windscreen; The Pumpkin Bomber’s cackle went unheard. Ears temporarily-deafened, thumbs up given; Faces, hands, arms burned—scarred medics. Flying glass cuts on our cheeks and necks: Carers now mummified patients: sideline critics. The first cracks of dawn chase shadows away; A Grand Grimoire yielding to Grey's Anatomy, Our carriage—the repair yard's hollow gourd, All-Saints sunrise feast to shed All Hallows' agony. On the Lord of Death's night, we didn't die: Weary defiance met coffee and pumpkin pie. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

HorrorHalloweenSurrealPop CultureDark HumorAmbulanceSamhainParamedicsFirst RespondersEmts
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“The Christmas Crasher or Merry Crisis & Happy New Fear (The Yule-Get-Yours Scapegoat) A Poem by Stewart Stafford A malevolent sprite in our living room, A mouldy Púca in the Christmas tree, Bauble-gleam eyes in festive branches, A sulphur stink while we watch TV. Swallowing a window candle flame; A fire-eater’s trick to no applause, Season’s sweets wolfed down— Even wrappers, devoured without pause. A fridge raid’s boozy-woozy walk, A true eggnog nuisance — every inch, Crash — a muffled, 'Timber! God rest ya!' So loud, we thought it was The Grinch! My parents demanded it come out: "A wrecked tree and hangover’s enough!" It pleaded against eviction in the cold, Squatter’s rights for lack of sterner stuff! Seated at the Xmas dinner table, Tossing scraps to our strange ‘pet’ below, Foghorn burp aria, a puked tinsel encore, Pine-needle toothpick snores in fake snow. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

Dark HumorScroogeIrish FolkloreGothic PoetryA Christmas CarolMonty PythonChristmas PoetryHorror PoemThe GrinchHoliday Humor
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“The Penultimate Hotel by Stewart Stafford Enter sluggishly into the lobby, A banquet is in progress in the restaurant, They’re regurgitating reality from within, And then eating their young. An apocalyptic porter has radioactive cubes in the lift, Housekeeping will have ten thousand years of light, But the sheets in the rooms, Will all turn to cream cheese. The cooks in the kitchen are breaking bones and rules, Creating a cake that stretches to infinity, Babel babble with protesting eggs, All baked in a hellfire oven. The concierge gives out tips, And tells guests they are awful and to leave, While simultaneously tattooing diabolical potion recipes, Inside a willing bellhop’s eyelids. © 2021, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

HotelGothicDark HumorSurrealismWhimsicalDark HumourBritish HumourBlack ComedyBritish HumorFawlty Towers
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“The clown wanted to bypass all medical care and cure his cancer with a naturopathic doctor. What a fool, right?” ... Karver’s smirk widened a little. “That’s right, my good man. They shouldn’t even be able to call themselves doctors. Making people eat roots, tree bark, dirt and whatnot. If they stopped trying to peddle their snake oil, maybe they’d stop mysteriously dying or disappearing.” Karver paused for a few seconds, grinning at Frank in silence, creating an awkward moment ...”

DoctorsSatireDark HumorDoctors And PatientsDark HumourNaturopathicNaturopathyDoctors Who KillDoctors IgnoranceNaturopaths
Book:The Beasts of Success
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“Bloodline by Stewart Stafford Stuart Richards, 5,001st in line to the British throne, A distant cousin of the king but hitherto unknown, He dreamt of the crown and his fair queen's hand, But there was no baiting the hook unless he had a plan. He chose to eliminate the competition, stood before him, Through a dark celebration, they'd never know what hit them, He sent out invitations to the 5, 000 heirs, Promising vast feasting, with music and fanfare He built a fake house front with a door and a sign, That said: "Welcome to the party. Now, kindly form a line." Behind the door, there awaited a cliff face and a fall, A master of deception, his warm smile greeted them all. He stood at the front door with a charming bow, And, welcoming each guest, he said: "In you go now!" He watched them disappear as they stepped through the door, Counting steps to ascension, lemmings queued up for more. Backslapping himself, inner cackling at his scheme, Imagining himself as king - glory rained down, it seemed, But his Machiavellian plotting had a monstrous flaw, One thing he'd forgotten that greedy eyes never saw. The king was still alive, and he was not amused, He got wind of this plot and responded unconfused, He sent his guards to arrest him for sedition in a fury, They swept him off his feet, planting him before a jury. Put on trial for treason - the verdict was most guilty, Execution set, he had the neck to beg for mercy, But the king was not budging and barked: "Off with his head!" An Axeman's reverse coronation, he joined the fallen dead. Halting 2,986th in line to the British throne, A distant cousin of the king, headless spirit flown, In jealous craving, dispossessed as ruler of the land, Crowned pride came before a fallen plan. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

PowerAmbitionSatireRoyaltySuccessionDark HumorDark HumourFunny PoemFunny PoetryUsurper
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“The Zombie Firetruck by Stewart Stafford Sirens moan, grave duty's flash of red, A mortuary whiff of something dead, Hoses trained with brains they suck, Your friendly neighbourhood zombie firetruck! All that remained of the human fire team, From the zombie pandemic of 2017, Still in their uniforms, their only treasures, Apocalyptic times call for end-time measures. When they reached the fire, people did scoff, They lurched, staggered, body parts fell off, As they wandered around, fire hoses forlorn, These knightly living dead faced a blazing dawn. The chief, hat off to his skeleton crew, In a voice once alive, now croaky like flu: 'To the hydrant, my ghouls, let's save Gothik Town, Or they'll call Ghostbusters, we'll be the clowns!' A glowering inferno, a cremation scene, Zombie firefighters, brave and light green. Through smoke and ash, they gravely stand, Composed decomposition with skeletal hand. Axeman Bony Ed led their clattering charge, Into the smoke, his cadavers did barge, The townsfolk looked on in dead of night, And disbelief, tiredness and mild fright. There soon followed medic Cemetery Phil, Decaying Murphy, Old Salty, and Dead Drill, Slab Stevens, Madly Hyde and Molly Voodoo, Determined to shake their initial hoodoo. A mother and baby backed by burning drapes, Team Macabre charged up the fire escape, Saving both and getting everyone out, Drank Brainer Ade as they leaked like a spout. Somehow, undead teamwork saved the day, No lives were lost as the water sprayed, Doused the flames, cool flatlined heroes, Much zombie kudos, no longer scary zeroes. The crowd cheered, did they ever doubt it? High fives lost hands but new ones sprouted, Frankenstein proud in their flapping flesh, Sure to get medals at the HalloweenFest. With a final groan and a clatter of bones, The zombie firetruck headed back home. Rotten yet proud, in their reanimated way, The risen would fight fires another day. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

ZombieDark HumorZombiesDark HumourBlack ComedyFunny PoemFunny PoetryZombie Apocalypse HumorFire TruckHorror Parody
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“pissing on photos, we wake parched in parallel realities i still end up drowning in visions he settles for the horror; hostage to the oddity of normal- comfy spot mirage, as he makes the bed daily so he can lie in it and be secret sad boy; he settles to sleepwalk with fantasy, slitting the throat of actual possibility, begging for a hand job to get through the day, making friends with locked doors and collectors of cookie cutters”

PoetryRelationshipsDark HumorSuburbiaPunk PoetryIndie PoetrySmall Press
Book:Altered States of the Unflinching Souls
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“What made Taein the Unkillable Kid was more than surviving the war that tore his realm apart and the hunt for his life that followed. It was more than almost starving to death in the wilds, it was more than the addictions that still hungered for his life. More than his time in the Blackblades, more than evading the Garrison, more than all the thrashings and scraps and botched brawls he’d ever gotten himself into. What made Taein the Unkillable Kid was the truth—that he literally could not die. And Taein knew that for a fact, because he had tried to die more times than he could count.”

HumorFantasyDark FantasyDark HumorEpic FantasyDarkness And LightGrimdarkGrimdark FantasyGrimdark Humor
Author:S. A. Matey
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“When they were well out of her earshot, Taein swiveled back and glowered at Vince. “You’ve got to throw those away.” Vince, bouncing awkwardly in the saddle as his draft kept time with Lorrin, looked aghast. “Taein, she gave us muffins.” “She probably poisoned them, you imbecile,” Taein hissed. “Why would she do that?” Vince asked, fumbling to keep a hold of his reins and manage a pair of blueberry-dotted muffins at the same time. “Because she knows I’m the one that stole from her, years back!” Vince paused before popping an entire muffin into his mouth. “You’re far too paranoid, Taein,” he said as he chewed. “These are blueberry muffins. Suit yourself, but I ain’t throwing these away even if they are poisoned.” “Well, don’t go blaming me when you keel over. You were duly warned.” “Me, paying recompense for your poorly-executed crimes? When has that ever happened?” Vince chuckled.”

Dark HumorFantasy SeriesFantasy QuotesGrimdarkGrimdark FantasyDark Humor QuotesGrimdark Humor
Book:Prince of Glass: Remastered
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