Little Johnnys SAVAGE Response to His F in Math! You Wont Believe His Answer!

Sometimes, school isn’t about what you learn—it’s about the moments that make you laugh for years afterward. This story about a boy named Johnny proves that even failure can come with a punchline.

Johnny came home from school one day, his backpack hanging low and his face pale. His father, reading the newspaper, barely looked up when Johnny dropped his report card on the table.

“Dad,” he said, hesitating, “I got an F in math.”

His father slowly lowered the paper. “An F? What happened this time?”

Johnny shrugged. “It’s not my fault. I answered the questions right.”

“Really?” his father said, skeptical. “Tell me what happened.”

Johnny sighed. “My teacher asked me, ‘What’s three times two?’ So I said six.”

His father nodded. “That’s right.”

“That’s what I thought!” Johnny said. “Then she asked, ‘What’s two times three?’ So I said six again.”

“Also right,” his father said, growing confused. “So why’d you fail?”

Johnny looked him dead in the eye and replied, “I don’t know. But when she asked me that, I asked her the same thing you’re probably thinking right now.”

His father frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Johnny smirked. “I said, ‘What the hell’s the difference?’”

There was a moment of silence before his father burst out laughing. “That’s exactly what I was going to say!”

Johnny grinned. “Yeah. That’s what I told her too!”

Needless to say, his teacher didn’t find it as funny as they did.

But Johnny’s quick wit wasn’t the end of the laughter in that household. His parents, it turned out, had their own brand of humor—especially when it came to dealing with each other’s bad habits.

Here’s a bonus story about Johnny’s parents that spread across the internet for years, making readers cry with laughter.

For decades, Johnny’s dad had one particularly unpleasant morning ritual. Every single day, without fail, he would wake up, stretch, and let out a thunderous fart that could wake the dead. The sound was enough to shake the windows, and the smell? It could clear the room faster than a fire alarm.

His wife had begged him to stop. “You’re going to kill me one morning,” she’d say, fanning the air and gasping for breath. “It’s disgusting!”

“It’s natural,” he’d reply, completely unbothered. “Everyone does it.”

“Not like that!” she’d shoot back. “You should see a doctor! One of these days, you’re going to blow your guts out!”

He’d laugh every time, brushing her off. But after years of enduring his so-called “natural” wake-up calls, she decided to teach him a lesson he’d never forget.

One Christmas morning, while preparing the turkey for dinner, she stared at the bowl of turkey innards—the neck, liver, and gizzards—and got an idea so mischievous it made her grin.

As her husband snored upstairs, she tiptoed into the bedroom with the bowl. Carefully, she pulled back the blankets, lifted the elastic waistband of his boxers, and—suppressing her laughter—emptied the entire bowl of turkey guts into his underwear. Then she quietly slipped out of the room.

A few minutes later, the sound of the usual morning trumpet echoed through the house, followed by the loudest scream she had ever heard.

“OH MY GOD!”

She nearly dropped her coffee as the thuds of frantic footsteps shook the hallway. Her husband burst into the bathroom, yelling incoherently, and she could barely contain herself. She collapsed onto the kitchen floor, laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. Tears streamed down her face as she imagined what he must be seeing in that mirror.

After twenty minutes of chaos, he finally came downstairs, pale and trembling, wearing blood-stained underwear and a look of pure horror.

She tried to compose herself, biting her lip to keep from laughing again. “What’s wrong, honey?” she asked, feigning concern.

He stared at her, wide-eyed. “You were right,” he whispered. “You warned me for years, and I didn’t believe you.”

“Warned you about what?” she asked, barely holding it together.

He took a deep breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “You told me that one day I’d fart my guts out. And this morning… it finally happened.”

She turned away, hiding her laughter behind her hand. “Oh no,” she said, struggling to keep a straight face. “That sounds awful. What did you do?”

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “It was bad. But I think I got most of them back in.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

“Yeah,” he said proudly. “Thank God for Vaseline and two fingers.”

That was it. She completely lost it—rolling on the floor, crying with laughter, unable to breathe. For years, she’d endured his morning routine, but that Christmas, she got her revenge—and it was perfect.

Stories like these have been floating around families for generations because they remind us of something simple: humor really is the best medicine. Life gets heavy, work gets stressful, and sometimes it feels like the world’s closing in—but laughter has a way of cutting through the noise.

Little Johnny’s cheeky attitude in math class might not have impressed his teacher, but it showed something every parent secretly loves—fearless honesty and a sense of humor that refuses to quit. And his parents? They’re proof that marriage isn’t about perfection—it’s about finding someone who can make you laugh even when life (or bad smells) gets unbearable.

So next time something goes wrong—whether it’s a failed test, a fight, or just another bad morning—take a lesson from Johnny’s family. Laugh about it. Tell the story. Keep it alive. Because one day, it’ll be the thing you remember most fondly.

After all, in a world full of serious problems, sometimes the smartest thing you can do is exactly what Johnny did—look the situation straight in the face and ask, “What’s the difference?” Then smile, because deep down, you already know the answer: laughter makes everything easier.

And if that didn’t make you laugh, well… maybe you just need a bowl of turkey guts and a little imagination.