Ugly Badtard Novels & Stories

Because she deserved to be stung. Not just an idiot. Not just stupid. But bad. I am bad. I am bad, and broken, and horrible, and I hate him and I hate myself and I want to die. It was a very, very dark plane ride.

But character matters just as much. "Does this company really want to keep someone with such rotten character on the payroll? Don't you care about your reputation?" The bullhorn was so loud that everyone in the office went to the windows to see what was going on. I became famous immediately for being an ungrateful son. Not that it mattered. Being called "filial" or "unfilial" never meant much to me anyway. Jason was furious on my behalf. "What a bunch of psychos. After everything they've done to you, they have the nerve to show up here and trash your name?"

It was Vanessa, the biggest pack and school slut, if you want to use a nice term for her. She had, of course, bleached blonde hair and her face was caked with makeup, she had her little barbie group behind her while smirking at me. "Well, well, well look what we have here girls it's the ugly little b*tch that died and came back, if only you stayed dead!" She sneered at me, while the idiots behind her were giggling.

The ER doors slammed open with a bang so loud her coffee jumped out of the cup. “Coming in hot!” a paramedic shouted, wheeling in a gurney that looked like it’d barely survived a warzone. Sienna was on her feet instantly. “Vitals?” “BP’s crashing. GSW to the abdomen. Lost a lot of blood before we even got to him. No ID, no name. Wouldn’t talk.” She looked down at the man on the stretcher—and her breath caught. Tattoos snaked across his chest and arms, vivid black ink soaked with blood. He wore the tattered remains of a leather cut, the words Hellborn MC barely visible under the crimson smear. His jaw was clenched, teeth bared in pain, but his eyes—

"I-I hate you!" "How about a cup of shut the f up?" "I am amazing!" "You are like a bag of pampers. Self absorbent and full of shit." Take that. "Go fuck yourself." "I would say the same, but I am pretty sure you would be disappointed." "You-you are retarded." "Sorry, I have a phobia, where I get scared of ugliness." "You have no morals!" "Says the one whose only culture is bacteria." Then from the crowd someone shouted, "Burn bïtch."

he said, gesturing at the others. A tall, thin black man emerged. Badger was his name. His dark, expressionless eyes swept her slender figure. "Look at her go. She's quite the firecracker, isn't she?" He lowered his jeans, his erection springing forth. It was long and dark. Circumcised. The head was a deep purple. "Don't you worry, little bird. We'll make sure you get the pleasure you deserve." He spat in his hand and lubricated his erection with his saliva. The shiny tool contrasted vividly with his ebony skin.

In retrospect, Billy was certain that the big man would have flattened him. He crept into his room, ignored the polite, friendly smiles of the children, who were slowly learning not to waste their time on him with such niceties, carrying a bag of cheap, greasy curry he loathed almost as much as the Africans. Baden was on TV. He watched a while, then drifted off into laptop land, and down into the internet rabbit-hole of race baiters and dull-witted thugs like Paul Golding and Jayda Fransen, his scary-eyed deputy. Football morons like Tommy Robinson, a young man who looked like he had a mouthful of wasps, and other favourite legions of half-witted wafflers, who, through the magic of Facebook

He laughed. A short, fat man —who I believe was in his late 50s came from the first door that was next to the entrance. He was wearing a white sweatpants, an oversized white T-shirt, and red sneakers. He had a huge chain on his neck, diamond earrings, and a lot of rings on his fingers. He was bald and had a huge scar that covered most part of his left cheek. He had a round belly and beard that was mostly covered in grey. “This is Smash, your new boss.”

Ugly. "Ari," I screamed at the top of my voice, just before she could pull the trigger. "Is this what you really want?”

I rushed toward the grave. The blood-stained words read, "Cindy Larson is a shameless woman, and the parents who raised her are animals!" What kind of hatred or grudge could make someone deface Peter and Lila's grave with such vicious words? My vision went black. I collapsed to my knees, desperately trying to wipe the words off. "Dad, Mom, I'm sorry. I've failed you. You can't even rest in peace. It's my fault. How could this happen? I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry!"