He sat in the corner, clicking furiously behind a computer screen. To any observer he would just be another disheveled college student, up late working on a last minute project, but if you knew what you were looking for you’d see he was no ordinary man.
There was a rhythm to his madness; click, click, shuffle, click, click, click, drink, click, sigh, repeat. The god of Meme Culture had little time to rest. Thanks to the constant access to the internet worldwide, he had to constantly create new content. At first it was easier, just some paintings, some pictures with text, but humanity kept twisting his creations into abstract abominations.
Click, click, sip, sigh. Today he was just posting the letter “E” on every platform he could find, keeping notes on upcoming trends in a spreadsheet on the computer for later. Not that it mattered. Procrastination usually could give him some material she found scattered somewhere in her apartment. He had always been her favorite child, the youngest of her brood. She pursed her lips when talking about his father, but anyone could see the resemblance between himself and Wasted Time.
There used to be an art to what he did. He used to find his work enjoyable, making people laugh over small things. But now there was too much context, too many things to keep track of, and a horde of people ready to destroy him if anything was wrong. Click, click, shaking hands run through his hair, click.
Burnout had been stalking him for the past couple of months, always in the room. Close enough to see, just enough to make him nervous. He wasn’t the first Meme god, Burnout had killed the last few. He knew he probably wouldn’t be the last, but he kept pushing, kept creating. Bony fingers pulled out clumps of thinning hair. Keep going.
Special thanks to @pepsi-is-me for the prompt
