Ho ho ho! Feeling festive? These Christmas jokes will have you laughing louder than Santa’s belly shake. Warning: excessive cheer, snort-laughing, and spontaneous caroling may occur. Proceed with caution… and cookies!
Jingle all the way to laughter! Grab your eggnog and settle in for some holiday hilarity. These jokes are Santa-approved and guaranteed to make you laugh harder than your uncle after too much Christmas pudding.
Mike drummed his fingers on his desk, staring at his phone. His wife Janet gave him a knowing wink from across the room, already struggling to contain her laughter. Time for their annual Christmas scheme.
“Hey kiddo,” Mike said after his 20-year-old son picked up in Fairbanks, trying to sound devastated. “I hate to drop this bomb, but… your mother and I are getting divorced.”
“WHAT?” Ryan’s voice cracked so hard that his neighbor’s cat fell off the windowsill. “Dad, you can’t be serious! You just posted those matching Christmas sweater photos!”
“Dead serious. Can’t stand looking at her cookbooks anymore. Three hundred and forty-two sugar cookie recipes is where I draw the line. Call your sister in Sydney. I’m done talking about it.”
Ryan immediately called his sister Ashley, nearly dropping his phone in his panic. “Dad’s lost his mind! They’re getting divorced over a cookbook!”
“OVER MY DEAD BODY AND EVERY CHRISTMAS ORNAMENT I OWN!” Ashley screeched, making her office plants wilt. She speed-dialed home. “Listen here, old man! Don’t you DARE sign anything! Ryan and I are flying home TONIGHT!”
Mike hung up and high-fived Janet, and both of them doubled over with laughter. “Works every year. Both kids coming home for Christmas. And they’re buying their own tickets!”
Janet wiped tears from her eyes. “Should we tell them this is how we got them to come to Thanksgiving too?”
“Nah,” Mike grinned. “Let’s save that trick for Easter!”
Eleanor had been working in the Dead Letter Office for five years, but she’d never seen anything quite like this — an envelope addressed simply to “God” in shaky handwriting that looked like it had been written during an earthquake.
Inside was a letter that made her heart squeeze:
“Dear God, I’m Martha, 85 years young and running low on miracles. Some sneaky youngster with unusually fast hands swiped my purse yesterday with my entire month’s pension. $120. I’ve got five dear friends coming for Christmas dinner, and now I can’t even afford a can of cranberry sauce. I know you’re busy with world peace and all, but could you spare a miracle for an old lady with a sweet tooth and empty cupboards? Love, Martha (the one with the crooked garden gnome collection at the end of Maple Street).”
The story doesn’t end here – it continues on the next page.
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