Thrown Out Window Meme Novels & Stories

Now. I drop the phone. Slump back in the chair. The juice sits there, untouched. I stare at the blank koala on my screen and suddenly feel like crying. Too late. The leak’s been deleted. The emails scrubbed. But the world already saw. Screenshots exist. Memes are probably being made. Dorothy. Fuck. I whisper under my breath. “I’m so fucking sorry, Dorothy…”

The fresh air that came in from the opened window made me feel better, plus I had nothing left in my stomach to puke up anyway. After a few minutes, I pulled my face away from the bag and glanced up. He was glaring at me, wincing. His face had gone from rosy-cheeked to pale and worried. "Throw the bag out the window," he ordered. "I can’t do that." I said. "It’s a plastic bag. It will take over a hundred years to disintegrate. I don’t want to pollute......." "U.g.o," he said, carefully enunciating every syllable, throw the fucking bag out the window."

" I ignored him. Group chat. 'Same time next week.' I wanted to ignore that one, but I put a thumbs up emoji. I couldn't risk them releasing the video before my finals. My whole junior year would be a waste if that happened. Fu8ck them. I would give them no emotion. They would get nothing from me except what I decided to give them. If I had to have meaningless se8x to get through this, I would. But fu8ck them both. ----- ----- -----

The next morning tasted like ash and second-guessing. I was still in my robe, sitting on the edge of the bed, when Valerie walked in like she owned the place—because apparently, she sort of did now. She held two croissants in one hand and her phone in the other. “Newsflash,” she said, biting into one, “your ex-bestie is trending on mafia T*****r.” I groaned. “There’s mafia T*****r?” “Oh yeah. And let me tell you, the threads are wild. Someone made a meme of Julia with a ‘villain origin story’ background.”

I stood by the window, staring down at that tiny, pathetic figure without feeling a single flicker of emotion. Love? That cheap sentiment went up in smoke during last night's game of Rummy. All I felt now was disgust. … Shawn's pity party became the laughingstock of the entire city. I had the footage edited and posted with the title "The Freeloader Cheats with His Sister, Heiress Gets Epic Revenge." It hit 100 million views overnight. The comment section was a sea of comments like "So satisfying!" and "He got what he deserved." His name was trash in this city, but he still refused to give up.

It was shut. “These buildings often have those tempered glass windows,” Audrey said, her hope dwindling. “Not this one. These are outdated windowpanes, I can tell. My dad used them in some of his older builds. This window will break. Back up to me. I can free your hands. Pick something up, like a chair and just bash it against the glass. It’ll break and get attention from people in the street. We’re going to make it, Audrey. We’re going to get out of here. We’re going to see our friends. You’re going to see your baby.”

He is the standard. I nearly puked upon typing that last reply. I’m sure that man will tease me to hell once he sees this comment section. I went to twitr and saw that Jupiter’s name was on the trending list again with over five thousand tweets. I read every tweets and laugh about it. All are positive and appreciation posts! Some edited his face and made a meme about it! They were hilarious as hell! I was busy scrolling down my news feed when I heard a knock on my door. Jupiter peeked through the glass window and I laughed before opening the door for him.

An old rock song exploded from the speakers at a volume that made my ears ring. I blinked at her through the open window. “What did I forget?” She threw the Jeep into reverse, grin widening as she started backing out. And then she shouted over the music— “YOU FORGOT YOUR HAM!”

He fell against the window, shattering the glass and nearly stumbling out of the building. “Shut the fuck up.”

Nothing. I rounded the side of the house, rain dripping off my hair and into my eyes. "Ian!" Grabbing a handful of pea gravel from the base of the bushes lining his house, I tossed a few at his bedroom window. It was too high. Backing up a step, I tossed some more, this time hitting the window pane. "Ian Joshua Memmer, get down here!" The curtain brushed aside from the window and then settled into place again. I couldn't tell through the rain if he'd seen me or not.