It Memes Novels & Stories

There were cute, silly ones too, that I couldn't help but laugh out loud. “How did you come up with all of these words? Where did you find all of these memes?” I snorted, unable to keep my curiosity to myself. “On F******k of course.” She chuckled, laying her head on my chest. Together, we read through a lot of her posts, with her playfully explaining what some meant. “You should add me up on F******k, that way you can see my posts any time I make one,” she suggested. “I don’t have F******k. I can’t remember the last time I had one. I have I*******m though,” I explained with a shrug.

~ Hailey ~ The storm begins before the sky even realizes it’s supposed to rain. By the time Ethan and I step out of the boardroom hand-in-hand, with our relationship declared, half the company already has it posted, reposted, filtered, captioned, and turned into memes. Kevin meets us outside the elevator looking like a man who has aged ten years in ten minutes. “Hailey… Ethan… the internet is— I don’t know how to say this but— the memes are disrespectful. Hilarious, but disrespectful.”

He clicks on it and staring back at him, is a picture of himself, moving away as clowns came near. He looks terrible, drunk and at the same time terrified. Tempering the urge to throw the phone away from himself, he scrolls down and sees different captions to the meme and one particular one by Ash Glam's Twitter page that reads "Undone assignments when they are due..." They had the guys to post it as well? They basically fueled the meme going viral. He goes back and checks the second hot topic. "Owner of B&F accused of Plagiarism right after Gail's death." He clicks on it and sees a news link and clicks on it as well.

Then the laughter ripped through the air, taunting my ears. “Ignore them.” I said to myself. Easier said than done, Valeria. I forced my attention to my phone, scrolling mindlessly, pretending none of this mattered. I shouldn’t have looked. Because the second I did, the screen slapped me with something that made my stomach drop. A meme. Not just any meme, me, Zane, and Landon photoshopped into a disgusting threesome, covered in crude stickers and comments. My heart throbbed with pain, my fingers visibly shaking.

Mentions, messages, tags. My stomach tightened as I opened one. It was a meme caricature of my old picture. There was a poop emoji on top of my head, my brown eyes were replaced with a red laser, and a boldly written text on the picture said ‘SLUT’. I groaned and locked my phone immediately. But it was too late. I’d already seen it. Another buzz. Then another. Curiosity got the better of me again. I saw a particular message from a private page in my DM.

It was like someone had loosened a knot that I did not know was there. By the next week the messages stretched longer. She started sending memes that was about anxiety brain fog. A cartoon character that was staring blankly at the wall with the caption “when your thoughts are buffering.” I laughed out loud in my kitchen. The sound made even me surprised. I replied with a crying laughing emoji and then I added. “Too real.”

My skin crawled in desperation for him. The first week I started sending him memes during the day, but he didn’t really understand them, much like the emojis, and it took him a moment to pick up. I had a feeling his office may have been a little too stuffy, and memes weren’t a part of his everyday life like they were with mine. Jenna sent me a dozen a day. Baby Yoda memes were his favorite, and mine as well. His office, his life, had been too stuffy, and I was happy to be breathing life into him.

Mei said, “about half the posts are people yelling that pups aren’t property. Your speech is getting traction.” “Great,” Lyra said. “I always wanted to be meme‑quoted in between cat videos and conspiracy threads.” Mei’s gaze flicked to her phone again, lips thinning. “There’s a thread,” she said slowly, “where some genius is zooming your block photos. ‘Spot the laundromat,’ ‘track the route,’ that kind of thing. Harris and Rhea are already playing whack‑a‑mole with it, but it’s out there.”

“No!” “Yes,” Landon said. “Someone titled it ‘Espresso Yourself—To Death.’ It’s got twelve thousand views already.” Suzi couldn’t breathe, laughing so hard tears started streaming down her cheeks. “Max! You’re going viral!” Max buried his face in his hands. “I swear, if anyone tags me…” “They already did,” Landon said. “Your name’s in the caption. ‘Local businessman’s café explodes in mocha mayhem.’ Congratulations. You’re a meme.”

As he clicked away on his laptop, he couldn't help but mutter, "Memes are the modern hieroglyphics, after all." The result of their combined efforts was nothing short of astonishing. Their exposé erupted across social media platforms like wildfire. Memes, catchy headlines, and hard-hitting content merged to create a potent force that captured the attention of netizens far and wide. Shares, likes, and comments flooded in, and the message was spreading faster than a rumor in a small town. ‌