Funny Cartoon Profile Picture Novels & Stories

I spat smiling with Justin. "Why not?" "You are bad guy, right Justin?" "Yes," we high-five giggling at our new form alliance. I was flipping our school magazine drawing a moustache and big teeth if I see someone I dislike. Liam and I decide to study after eating our food so I was going just that. Drawing is an art and I consider myself studying. I laugh at my creation seeing the big teeth in Sienna mouth. "Liam sees this," I say showing him the picture. Liam chuckles seeing the picture.

Open minded but always have a thich barier between vulger and modern. " 𝐋𝐨𝐥, 𝐇𝐨 𝐠𝐲𝐚 𝐆𝐞𝐞𝐳! 𝐎𝐡 𝐌𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧, 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐏𝐨𝐨𝐡, 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐚? " 𝗞𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗸 𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗮

It's about time someone told Kelly the truth that she is mean, cruel, and heartless. I set up a new I*******m account. In doing so, I will do some digging on Kelly with my new username and alias. My fake name is Jennifer Smith. It's a generic enough name that I could be anyone. My profile picture is of an orange tabby cat wearing glasses—a fat Garfield-like cat, sitting on a large book. Maybe the book is a dead giveaway that it is really me.

“So, are you already trying to profile me?” I chuckle. “I profiled you months ago, Jimmy.” “People change.” He defends feigning offence “You didn’t.” I chirp in. “Okay then. Humour me. What’s your profile?” I duck my head and grin. This feels like my first patient. “I think that you’re a guy who feeds off humour. Maybe it’s been your way of getting out of unpleasant situations in the past.” “That’s quite an accurate profile. That’s All You’ve Looked at?”

“You should reply, Cathy.” A few days ago, someone by the name of Calum Dissick created an account on BC, that itself is unusual because what are the odds? The same name? His profile picture is a landscape picture but his username is a mix of his first and last name. Nothing to worry or think about. It can’t be him.

I giggled. Putting her on speaker again, I went to Mythinder and took a screenshot of his profile. The profile picture is of him in a fitted white button up and his hair is styled nice. On his page, you can see a picture of him with his dog and another of him shirtless. And my goddess, it’s definitely hard to breathe when you’re looking at that one. He’s got a firm chest and a thin torso. He’s playing soccer in another one with very short shorts. You just want to lick the sweat dripping down his thigh muscles. I sent the screenshot to her and she was quiet as she clicked on it. “Holy shit he’s hot,” she groaned.

" Ian frowned at the question. Ian (8:15 pm) : What kind stupid question are you asking? Irritating Twat (8:16 pm) : Don't know the answer? Ian (8:16 pm): No. Irritating Twat (8:17 pm) : Because it is made out of cells! Haha! Ian gaped at the message for a long time before a small laugh escaped his mouth. The joke was really lame but it was funny.

I mumbled. Why of all people?! It was a picture of us talking in the cafeteria. We are both wearing a serious expression as if we’re in a debate. I scrolled down on the comment section. My lips twitched when I saw a lot of comments coming from our friends, mostly from my annoying cousin. Worth Farrel Rojas: *whistles* Is my ship sailing? Linus Nolan Buenafe: Oh, what a tea Shaun Martin Stewart: Holy cow! This is a biggest scoop!

Samuel could always crack the lamest jokes in the most monotone voice. The chat was laughing. [LOLOL. Professor Grant, you know your metaphors! I like crazy boyfriends!] [So, those four idiots were harassing Layla, and she should let a mad dog loose to deal with them? LMAO. The chaos! I love it!]

Still, it wouldn’t leave me. When the artist finally turned the paintings around, Elara gasped in horror. Her caricature exaggerated everything. Her nose was huge, her expression looked like a puffed-up rooster. I laughed so hard my eyes watered, clutching my sides. Then he showed mine. It was even worse. My elegant posture looked stiff and snooty, my face stretched into something prim and ridiculous. Elara doubled over, laughing until tears streamed down her cheeks. We left the stall carrying our embarrassing portraits, the paper crinkling in my hands, still giggling like kids.