I walked through the school halls, taking notice of my peers (though I prefer the word peasants) around me.
As the local memelord, it was my job to keep the memes spicy and the meme economy pricey.
My rule had gone unchallenged for millennia, and the school prospered peacefully. However, this all changed when HE transferred here.
He goes by the name of Normie. No one knows where he came from, and no one wants to know. All we know is that he wears crocs with socks, has his khaki shorts pulled up to his chest, and that he is to be feared by all sensible creatures. Normie would look at my memes, and his criticisms cut away at my pride like daggers. “I like minion memes more” he would say, “What the heck is a dank?”
In a matter of days, I saw everything that I had built crumble into dust; my memes torn down, my vassals disbanded, my pride and joy all but crushed. It was after this accidental slant rhyme, that I decided to fight back; it’s clobberin’ time.
I rallied my forces and Normie rallied his as we began to set fire to the digital landscapes of the Internet. Reddit and 4chan were interlocked in struggles of power with Buzzfeed and iFunny, the flame war destroying reputations and bandwidths without prejudice.
The Meme War lasted for a record time of twenty minutes and forty three seconds before both sides had to resign due to the unforeseen casualties on their ends. I mean, it’s taking place within a school, there’s only maybe three people in this war and one of them is the teacher required to keep watch over the computer lab (what Normie and I call the battleground).
We decided to settle this like men, and agreed to meet at high noon in the school parking lot the next day, along with the weapon of our choice.
The sun blazed as Normie and I took our respective places. Our sweat beaded faces stared quietly as we prepared to commence the duel. I’ll give Normie one thing, he was honorable.
We both pulled out our Beyblades and set them on the ground, ready to let it rip. Pulling as hard I could, I sent my Beyblade spinning towards his and watched as the two tops engaged in a battle that was as deadly as it was beautiful, a dance of fury and the gyroscopic effect.
It was then that I saw Normie pull something out of his pocket. It was old, wooden, and seemed to be carved in the shape of some obscure pagan god.
Normie held it up in one hand towards me and I saw it begin to glow a soft purple.
Suddenly, I saw his Beyblade begin countering all my techniques and I was losing my composure. How? How was he winning?! Normie cackled, “You fool! This talisman allows me to see your thoughts, including all your pitiful strategies and maneuvers!”
There was no hope now, how do I beat someone who can read my mind? It was then that I developed an idea (which I hoped Normie didn’t see).
I yelled, “Oh yeah? There’s no way you know my ultimate move!” Normie replied, “I don’t see such a move in your mind!” Putting on a face of confidence, “Then you’ve lost.” Having finally snapped, he yelled, “NEVER!”
He concentrated even harder, obviously searching even deeper in my head to find the “ultimate move”.
It was then that Normie suddenly stopped and it seemed as if time was frozen.
His eyes looked at me in awed horror and he stood unmoving, petrified with fear.
Obviously.
The things he saw in my head were too much for him. The plan had worked. I paid no attention to the now still Beyblade, walking over to Normie.
He stumbled backwards and fell back onto the asphalt, still having not blinked and dropped his talisman which was now cracked and dull.
“Wha… what are you?”
I said nothing, only looked on with pity at the mind that was now as broken as the talisman, and turned to walk away. Before taking my first step however, I looked over my shoulder at him and said, “Omae wa mou shindeiru.” I didn’t look back, because cool guys don’t look at explosions.