Ugly Cartoon Characters Male Novels & Stories

My brother-in-law had a sudden heart attack. The doctor said only my wife could perform the specific surgery he needed. It was a critical situation. By the time I finally managed to get through to her, her childhood sweetheart answered the phone. "We're just about to head out camping," he said casually. "We won't be coming back tonight." My heart sank. "Ryan had a heart attack. He needs surgery immediately. Tell her to come back to the hospital—now." Instead, my wife's irritated voice cut through. "Are you done? How dare you make up a lie like that and curse my brother!" Before I could explain, she hung up. When I tried calling back, her phone was already off. In the end, my brother-in-law died because the window for surgery closed. And my wife lost her mind.

After my mother shot down my pleas to cover my medical bills the 100th time, I clutched my bone cancer diagnosis papers and trudged to the crematorium. "Hi, I'd like to reserve a cremation slot ahead of time," I muttered to the clerk. Half an hour ticked by before my parents and adopted brother arrived in their car. My dad, a forensic pathologist, cracked me across the face. "You're pulling a fake-death stunt now, just to steal the spotlight from your brother?" My mom, a hospital director, snatched the papers from my hands and shredded them into confetti. "Faking records using my credentials and tying up hospital resources? You've crossed the line!" My brother cried, tugging at their sleeves. "It's all my fault. I'll skip the amusement park forever. I don't need a thing. Just quit riling up Mom and Dad." I spun around, my hand pressed against my throbbing chest, and begged the crematorium staff. "Please, when it's time, cremate me and scatter the ashes in the river. I've got no family left in this world."

The seventh time Claire Fisher bailed on our marriage license appointment, I finally cut her out of my life—for good. From then on, if she was at a party, I wasn't. When she was scheduled to perform at our college's anniversary celebration, I made sure to leave early. The moment my company announced a collaboration with hers, I resigned without a second thought. Even on Christmas Eve, when she showed up at my parents' house with gifts, I slipped out with a half-hearted excuse about "visiting a friend." I blocked her number. Deleted her from my contacts. Burned every bridge and salted the earth behind me. No calls. No texts. No social media. I didn't reach out. She couldn't reach me. Simple as that. For the better part of my life, I was hopelessly in love with her—waiting on her, caring for her, putting her first in every way that mattered. I gave her all of me without ever holding back. But after the seventh time she left me sitting alone at the City Hall, something inside me broke. I was done. If that meant spending the rest of my life alone, so be it. Better that than sitting in an empty apartment, listening to the silence, holding on to hope for someone who never planned to show up.

I am not my parents' biological son. When they find their son and bring him back, he looks skinny and malnourished. My parents feel sorry for him, so they offer him compensation. But Kenneth Lawson says, "I am your son. If you are going to compensate me, then give me the company." My family persuades me by saying, "You are not related by blood after all. You should return the position to him." With a smile, I hand everything over to him. The next day, the company's biggest client, core technical team, and all distributors announce that they will only work with me. My parents panic and rush to beg me. I fold my arms and say, "Tell your biological son to come and beg me—the employee—to go back."

A contract is desperately needed for the company to close the deal on a project, so I head over to the administrative department to lodge a request for printing paper. However, the administrative employee, Lydia Reed, slaps on an arrogant expression. "In order to prevent bottom feeders like you from taking advantage of the company by stealing the company's resources, the company's rulebook has already stated that you must bring your own paper to work!" I just point at the pile of boxes containing A4 paper behind Lydia before asking coldly, "Then who are those resources meant for?" Lydia rolls her eyes at me. "Well, they are meant for people who truly are worthy of this company's resources, duh! "You're just a meager project manager who keeps asking for money without making any contributions at all, so you can forget about getting your hands on anything that belongs to the company!" I nod in return. After leaving the department, I dial a number. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cross. It seems that we shall not be participating in the 200-million-dollar bid after all."

At dinner, my wife's little brother Darren shot me a nasty look. "Other guys hook their wife's brother up with houses and cars. Mine won't shut up about covering a lousy twenty grand. "Wade Watson, transfer your house to me today, or I swear, I'll make my sister divorce you." My hand stalled mid-serve as I placed food on my pregnant wife's plate. That house was all my parents left me. Best school district in the city. Worth over three hundred grand. I looked at Vanessa, waiting for her to back me up. For the baby. She slammed an abortion appointment slip onto the table. "It's because I married a useless guy like you that my brother still isn't married. Wade, you get one choice—the baby or the house."

My mother-in-law, Emerald Jones, had always loved to exaggerate. My wife’s wedding gift for me was worth 8,800 dollars, but my mother-in-law told everyone it was worth 880,000 dollars. We only looked at cars at a luxurious car dealership. But she went around saying she spent over 200,000 dollars to buy me one. I figured that I was going to spend my life with my wife, Emilia, so I put up with her. On the eve of our wedding, I had a small argument with my wife. She blurted out, “My family has to pay over a million dollars for me to marry you. What more do you want? “My wedding gift alone is 880,000 dollars. Anyone who doesn’t know better will think you’re living off a woman!” I was utterly disappointed. She was not directly involved in the discussion on the wedding gift. However, it was something both families had agreed on together. My wife actually believed her mother’s ridiculous remarks and assumed I had received an outrageously expensive wedding gift. After my mother-in-law transferred 1,000 dollars to me for the wedding banquet, she told everyone she had given me 100,000 dollars instead. So, I swapped the luxury wedding feast for instant noodles on the day of the banquet. In addition, I showed a looped display of her stingy transfer of money to my bank account for everyone to see.

On the day I get promoted to the department manager, I take my parents on a trip during the holidays. But my dad invites my older brother, Jacob Hunt, and his family over as well. He even posts on social media about the event. "My oldest son really is amazing. The first thing he does is sponsor a trip for me right after he receives his salary." Jacob comments on that post, "It's my duty to care for my parents." All of my relatives compliment Jacob right away. They even text me on the family's group chat and tell me to learn from Jacob. As I quietly stare at my dad's social media post, I decide to unlink the family sharing account from my credit card right away. This time, I want to see how Jacob will care for our dad without my money.

Since it's already the end of the year, the music app I use produces a report on the songs I've listened to in 2025. The keyword of my report is "resonance". Over the year, I don't spend much time listening to the songs on this app. My girlfriend, Sienna Fletcher, is the one who's been using my account this whole time. There's a row beneath the keyword that's written in a tiny font. "You had listened to this song with someone at 4:00 am on December 1st. It turns out that love can go beyond a night's sleep." My breath gets hitched in my throat. December 1st is my birthday. But that night, I had gone to bed at an early hour. Meanwhile, Sienna had left hurriedly after cutting my birthday cake with me with the excuse that she needed to pull an overnight shift at the company. For some reason, I tap onto the unfamiliar-looking profile that has been interacting frequently with my account with a trembling finger. Their keyword of the year is "favor". My heart skips a beat at the sight. Then, I tap on the details. "Over the year, you've listened to songs with this user 688 times in the middle of the night. Every time you do, it's a secretive conversation meant for your souls." The next thing I know, I receive a message from Sienna. "Babe, I need to work overtime tonight again. You don't have to wait up for me. Just go to bed early." At the same time, a new post is uploaded on the unfamiliar profile. It features a photo of two hands that are intertwined together. "I love working overtime with her the most. I want to listen to songs with her forever."

After undergoing a gallbladder removal surgery, I get discharged while having to hunch over in pain. In fact, I have to go home while attached to a surgical drainage bag. Before I even reach the front door, I hear Rayne Randall, my sister who's ten years younger than me, wailing at the top of her lungs. "Dad, there's a splinter in my finger! It hurts so much!" "Let me blow your booboo away for you, Ray. It won't hurt anymore once I'm done." As soon as I open the front door, I see my dad rolling his eyes at me. His previously happy disposition quickly morphs into an annoyed one. "Why are you home this late? It's just a small surgery, isn't it? Look at how much of a wuss you're being! Ray wants to have fish for dinner, so you'd better take your ass to the market and buy a fresh one for her!" My surgical wound hurts so much that I keep trembling in pain. I can barely move an inch. Having noticed that I'm not moving at all, he chucks a slipper at me right away. "Just go! What's with that gloomy look of yours? It's all thanks to you that our luck is gone! Every time I see a jinx like you walking around, I feel even unluckier!" As far as I remember, my dad keeps calling me a jinx who has ruined his family. Now that I've had a close brush with death, I don't want to keep living in this world like a pathetic loser. In that case, I might as well let everyone in this family have a real dose of my misfortune.