The Book of the Woodcutter: Man's Funny Book, #6

By Bjorn Peeters

Cheer up, have fun, and relax with these 10 exciting men's comedy stories

We all know reading helps us to relax and feel good; but how much stronger is the effect when you're reading a FUNNY book? One that's working hard to evoke bursts of laughter that bother your neighbors and scare the cat?

And what if it gets even better?

What if that funny book is about the most exciting subject?

That's right! Man's Funny Book is all about sex, dates, flings, hookups, crushes, relationships, and marriage.

Or rather, the infinite things that go spectacularly wrong with them.

From an apocalypse survivor who risks everything to meet two topless girls across the street, to a guy trying to stay awake while his wife shows of her skill in the bedroom, and a guy so nervous he can't stop laughing while a beautiful but very shy girl undresses in front of him.

This bundle contains 10 complete stories, each about 30-60 minutes of reading fun.

And they aren't just working hard to make you laugh.

They're so easy to get (back) into, even tired people or with little time can enjoy them.

These are all the fun, joke-filled stories you'll get if you buy this bundle:

• 51| The Apocalypse Man & the Dancing Girls
• 52| The Muscleman & the Beautiful Thief
• 53| The Exhausted Man & the College Girls
• 54| The Raging Man & the Cute Girl
• 55| The College Guy & the Girl in the Closet
• 56| The Sleepy Husband & the Proud Wife
• 57| The Woodcutter & the Milkmaid
• 58| The Accident Man & the Excited Girl
• 59| The Laughing Guy & the Shy Girl
• 60| Captain Castor & the Octopus Beauty

And while this series is called Man's Funny Book, that doesn't mean it's only for men! Plenty of women thoroughly enjoy this type of testosterone-infused wacky comedy. Why? Because they laugh hardest of all, when they see the epic trouble these guys get themselves into by letting the little guy in their pants call the shots.

Whether you sympathize and root for these guys or just make fun of them, there's a whole lot of laughter in it for you.

Don't miss out on giving the next ten days of your life a big boost of happy feelings.

If you can keep from finishing the book in one go, that is.

Now go have fun!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tales Of Peeters
• Release date: Mar 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224270446

Book preview

A message from the author, to you

First off, thank you for your interest in my work and for buying (or lending) this book. Your patronage helps support me, my wife and kids, and all of my artwork. I wholeheartedly wish for this book to bring you joy. Both now, and every time you wish to return to the funny and exciting world contained within these pages.

I wish you all the best,

Bjorn

PS: If you want to find out more about me and the Man’s Funny Book series, see what other Man’s Funny Book products you can buy, or subscribe to the newsletter so you stay informed and receive special offers, go to: https://www.mansfunnybook.com

TABLE OF CONTENTS

The Book of the Woodcutter

Cover (without title)

A message from the author, to you

51| The Apocalypse Man & the Dancing Girls

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

52| The Muscleman & the Beautiful Thief

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

53| The Exhausted Man & the College Girls

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

54| The Raging Man & the Cute Girl

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

55| The College Guy & the Girl in the Closet

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

56| The Sleepy Husband & the Proud Wife

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

57| The Woodcutter & the Milkmaid

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

58| The Accident Man & the Excited Girl

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

59| The Laughing Guy & the Shy Girl

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

60| Captain Castor & the Octopus Beauty

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Man’s Funny Newsletter (stay informed and get discounts)

The Fraternity & Sorority Wars

Title page

51| The Apocalypse Man & the Dancing Girls

Chapter 1

There she was again!

Or rather, the light in her place was on again. But unless those screaming zombies down in the streets had somehow gotten to that tenth-floor bathroom (which was possible) and learned to fire up a generator (less likely), it could only mean that the beautiful girl had returned! And that she would soon appear in front of her window to get the show started.

Jean-Christophe nearly tripped over his box of grenades getting to his own window.

It had taken him all of yesterday to move his stuff around so the east-side windows were free, and he had a much better view of the shot-to-hell fifteen-floor building across the street where she lived. If she really did live there, that is.

He still wasn’t sure.

Might be she’s using it as a temporary base, he mumbled as he looked out.

He really hoped that wasn’t the case and she was moving in permanently. There had been a lot more activity in the city in the past few weeks. Probably a large group of drifters had made it into the inner districts at the end of the dry season. By then, the southwest river had all but dried up. Instead of being over two hundred feet wide, it had shrunk to a network of small streams. Fish dying in the shallow water and all that. The seagulls that had migrated from the coast early in the summer had first feasted on all those fish that had nowhere left to go, and then they, too, had started dying.

You know, after all the remaining fish had gone bad.

No food, no life.

Jean-Christophe knew that all too well.

That’s why unlike those drifters that had come to the city, he stayed put.

All those dreamers trying to make it out in the countryside by building up farms, or trying to get some fortifications around a town and build up trade with surrounding places. At all times having to deal with hordes of hundreds if not thousands of zombies. They had no idea how easy life in the city could be. He had sixteen floors of stores and offices all to himself, with two levels of basement filled to the brim with store inventory (minus what he had already used). Not to mention the underground parking lot full of cars that were filled with gas he’d been able to use for the generator. And all he had to do to keep it all safe was board up the downstairs windows and barricade the entrances.

Much less work than walling off an entire farm or settlement.

Of course the gas from the cars was long gone by now, but it had given him enough time to make a few small windmills from the car parts (plenty of tools in the hardware store!), not to mention the small but serviceable 3 square feet scrap-metal elevator he’d built. Whatever he couldn’t get from his own vast inventory of stuff or his (currently dried out) garden on the roof, he could easily trade for with whoever was around at the time. With the little cargo lift in place, all he had to do was step out on his south-side balcony and yell what he wanted down at the people in the alley.

It was easy living (given the circumstances).

Just do maintenance on the barricades and never ever leave the building.

The only actual downside to this was that the last real... er, private time... he’d had was with one of the life-size plastic dolls from the lingerie store. And ever since that time his dick had gotten stuck in the (as it turned out) slightly too small hole he’d made in the bottom, he left those alone. But if that beautiful young woman actually moved in across the street, he’d sure feel less lonely!

Jean-Christophe stared at the window but didn’t see the girl yet.

Alright, I have some time, he said to himself.

He left the window and quickly started cleaning up the barbed wire he’d been making out of metal wiring pulled from one of the store’s walls and boxes of razor blades. While he moved one pile of finished wire to the big table further down the room, he whistled twice.

There came a snort and a squeak from the adjacent room.

C’mon François, don’t be difficult! said Jean-Christophe, and he dropped the wire on the table between a bunch of books and some empty cans that had supplied last night’s dinner. He had to whistle another time but then there was the pitter-patter of paws in the other room. A moment later the door was pushed further open and a dog-sized piggy came in. There was a little doggy door in the door but Francois always refused to use it when he was upset.

What’s the matter now? asked Jean-Christophe.

The pig gave him a look that could kill and made his way through the room. When he ran into some of the already finished razor-barbed wire that lay between the two sturdy red reclining chairs, he stopped at once and began oinking like he was being led to the slaughter.

Relax, you didn’t even touch it! said Jean-Christophe.

The pink big-eared creature oinked even louder.

Aaaaw, don’t be like that Francois!

But the annoyed pig started to squeal and a moment later the shrieks of the brain-eaters down in the street became louder. It was ten floors down, but to those damned zombies it sounded like dinner was close. If the city had still been like in the old days that would’ve been unthinkable, with all the noise from the cars and shops and the drunk people shouting at each other. Now, if the brain-eaters weren’t making a racket, you could hear a bumble bee fly past the front door. On a real quiet day, you could hear the crackle of the piece of paper it landed on to take a moment’s rest.

It worked both ways.

If you let rip a loud fart it could make a handful of brain-eaters turn to look.

Squealing like this could draw a crowd in under ten minutes, which Francois knew well.

Don’t be such an asshole, said Jean-Christophe as he sucked at the cut on his finger, then put on thick gloves and picked up the rest of the finished barbed wire, so the pig could pass through the living room the way it wanted. You know I’ll be up an hour longer tonight because of the racket you just made? Yeah, because what happens when I don’t take out those zombies at the front door? They’ll get through, that’s what! Hear the noise they’re making? By nightfall that herd will swell to three times the normal size. And those relentless sons of bitches will put so much pressure on the barricade it’ll collapse. And then what? Then it’ll be piggy for dinner, that’s what! Or you think they’ll just eat me and spare the bad-tempered pig?

Francois gave one more loud oink and then went over to his feed trough.

It wasn’t a real feed trough. They didn’t have those in any of the stores here, probably because city people weren’t often in need of one. All they had was stuff for cats and dogs but Francois wasn’t fond of that plastic stuff. So Jean-Christophe had taken a wooden cradle for dolls from the toy store and turned that into a nice little pink feed trough for Francois.

He was very fond of it.

OOOOOOOOOOOOIIIIIK!

Oh c’mon Francois, do I look like I already had time to fill it up?

Jean-Christophe had spent hours making the razor-barbed wire needed to replace the one at the back entrance, and before that, he had taken apart his sniper rifle for cleaning, and before that... I’ll do it in a moment you little fire alarm on legs! he cried out. Now stop making that racket! You’re drawing way too many of those damned brain-eaters to the front door and... shit, there’s even a couple of fat ones trying to get to the door, he said, looking out the window. Dammit, Francois, if they get to pushing against the barricade, too, I’ll have to replace some of the wood in the morning! I’ll give you your food in a minute, alright, just relax!

He wasn’t just worried about the noise attracting zombies.

Worse still, that girl from across the street might hear and get distracted by it.

Jean-Christophe grabbed his big red reclining chair and pushed it in front of the window. Across the street he saw that the shades of the bathroom window were still down, but now the girl was moving about the room. If the sun had been out he might’ve had trouble seeing her behind the plain white shades, but it was a cloudy day and with the light burning behind her in the room, he could see her beautiful slim silhouette move briskly through the room.

What tits she had!

Boy oh boy, it was gonna be another great show for sure! Whether or not she had come into the city with those new folks that had crossed the river or not, she was most welcome! If it turned out she was there only temporarily and moved on to another place later, he’d probably cry a little.

Now he’d better hurry so he didn’t miss the start of the show.

Francois had left his feed through and jumped into the other sofa chair.

His was the one that smelled most like pig and had a weird stain on the left side (you were not supposed to talk about that, because he got very upset). Jean-Christophe grabbed the back of his companion’s chair and told him to get out, but Francois pretended not to hear.

Yeah, yeah, alright then, said Jean-Christophe.

He pushed the chair across the room with the pig sitting in it like a captain on his ship. Halfway through the living room he spun it around a few times, making Francois squeal with excitement, and then he pushed it right up to the window next to his own chair.

Jean-Christophe glanced out the window and saw the girl put down her rifle.

Damn, show’s already about to start, he said. Just eat your dinner in the chair, alright?

Francois oinked once, and Jean-Christophe grabbed the big brown paper bag from the shelf and filled up the little doll cradle before placing it on the little table in front of Francois’ chair.

After another oink, Francois buried his face in the trough and feasted.

Across the street the slim silhouette of the girl was unbuttoning her blouse.

It’s starting! said Jean-Christophe. He dropped into his chair and reached for his sniper rifle and put it down next to him within easy reach. Then he folded his hands over his belly and spit once out through the open window, and then he waited for the boobs to appear.

Any minute now, he mumbled, as Francois dug his face deeper into the food.

Chapter 2

When the girl across the street had finished unbuttoning her blouse she put on some music.

She always did that. It was always cheerful music and it was always loud. Jean-Christophe leaned forward in his chair and looked out the window a moment. A herd of some fifty zombies had gathered in the street between the two buildings. It could also be sixty or seventy. It was enough to be trouble. When they heard the music, a bunch of them went across the street.

One of them bumped into a car and lost his arm.

It was some old dude in a suit (what was left of it, anyway) and he didn’t even notice that his arm went its own way. Jean-Christophe chuckled, then spotted a zombie that looked like his ex-wife and had gotten herself stuck between two burned-out cars. He couldn’t hear her snarl because the music was so loud but saw her struggle and was sure she was raising hell down there. Some others wanted to go that way as well and bumped into her, and then some dude who used to deliver pizzas made an attempt to climb over the pile of flailing arms and angrily snarling zombie heads.

Stupid little fuckers, mumbled Jean-Christophe.

Still, with such numbers of them in the street it would be unwise to venture out.

The building opposite the street was fine, though. At some point a cement truck had driven into it, and half of the front entrance had collapsed onto it. Some kind of office building that shouldn’t have many other entrances except a fire escape and a backdoor in some alley. Maybe it also had an underground parking lot that came out on one of the nearby streets, and maybe it didn’t. Perhaps a straggler or two would find a way through the debris around the cement truck, but it wasn’t likely a big stampede would overrun the building.

Probably why she chose it, said Jean-Christophe while he leaned back in his chair.

Just as he pulled his head in through the window, a gust of wind took his baseball cap. Took it for a ride high up in the air, then just stopped and let it float down to the street. Jean-Christophe cursed so loud it made Francois oink indignantly (and he was used to a bit of cursing). But it was his favorite cap! He’d had it since moving into the building three years ago and had worn it every day since. Not to mention Francois had played with it when he was just a piglet.

How much fun he’d had running around the building with that cap in his little mouth.

It damn near broke Jean-Christophe’s heart to see it float down into the street, and he would’ve done a whole lot more cursing if the girl across the street hadn’t stopped moving. As soon as he saw that, Jean-Christophe shut his mouth tighter than the front door to his building.

She had now taken off her blouse and was holding it in her hands.

The shades were still down but her silhouette was very visible and in some detail. Jean-Christophe looked at her tear-drop-shaped heavy breasts with the perky nipples pointing up at an angle. Seconds seemed to last for much longer while she stood still. He traced the lines of her thin waist down over her hips, which were titled a bit to one side, and then along the soft curves of her thighs until his eyes bumped up to the windowsill of the bathroom and he raised them up again to her head.

While he looked at her he slowly, very slowly, sat down.

Then she took her hairbrush and Jean-Christophe sighed with relief.

Close call, Francois! he said, and the pig looked at him a moment before continuing to eat.

Or course, the girl might know he was there. There had to be hundreds of windows with a view of hers, so she’d probably take into account someone could be watching. It could be the reason she did it the way she did it. After all, she could pick another more private bathroom to do her little show. One that had a view on a back alley wall or something. But then again, he couldn’t be sure of that, and if she got spooked she might leave and never come back.

Better not rock the boat!

If he’d known it wouldn’t scare her off, he’d have sent her over some stuff. There were a few things he could get across the street with his slingshot. Some nice books that women might enjoy (but that he mostly used for kindling) and some packets of snacks.

But the last thing we want to do is spook her, right Francois?

Francois gave a grunt of some kind but Jean-Christophe barely heard it. The young woman across the street had started brushing her hair. She had sleek hair that went almost all the way down to her hips and used powerful swoops to cut through it with the brush. While she wore her combat gear she kept it tied in a bun that stuck out from underneath her helmet. No doubt it needed a good brushing when she let it down and she was really giving it one, not minding the knots at all, it seemed.

Such a beautiful girl, mumbled Jean-Christophe.

Her body was all soft tight curves and she moved it about with ease and self-assurance. You could tell she was a girl that had survived out on the street. Having lived comfortably in his own building for three years now, Jean-Christophe had a bit of a belly to show for it. He still had a strong and enduring physique from carrying stuff around and repairing barricades (not to mention he worked out an hour each day), but it was different with this girl. She was lean and even the little movements she made looked like they had the graceful quick power like that of a cat in the wild.

She’d no doubt outrun him if... whoa, she hadn’t done that before!

Out of the blue, she’d swung her leg up on what looked like the washstand.

Like a ballerina! said Jean-Christophe. He nudged Francois, but the pig didn’t look up.

It looked like she was inspecting something on the lower part of her leg. She leaned her body over it without bending either of her knees. It made Jean-Christophe pull at his shirt to let some cool air in, because he was feeling rather hot all of a sudden. When she was done looking at whatever she had been looking at, she put her leg back down, and then lifted up what looked like a bowl of some kind and put it down on the washstand.

She hadn’t done that before.

Looked like the building had running water (probably some kind of rainwater re-usage system that still functioned) because she filled up the bowl and then dipped a cloth into it. Jean-Christophe watched intently as she squeezed the excess water out, then moved the cloth over to her chest.

She rubbed down the entire top part of her body.

When she came to her breasts, Jean-Christophe held his breath and sat motionless, looking at how her big breasts got pushed out of shape as she washed them, and then bounced back to normal when she moved her hand to another area. When she was done with her upper body she undid the button of her pants, put down her belt with the handgun and the big knife, and took off her underwear. She washed her long legs. Then she took some more water. When she leaned over a bit and rubbed the cloth between her legs Jean-Christophe moved a little in his chair.

His pants creaked a little as they were stretched out.

Would you look at that, Francois! he said.

Francois oinked softly and then laid himself comfortably