Silverfish from Above

Cuddie messaged me a meme earlier today. The pictures were from a scene of a sitcom that I hadn’t seen. I wonder, when fans of something see memes like this, is the humor they find in it doubly enjoyed due to their familiarity with the original content?

 Anyway, some dude in the meme was talking aloud about a thing when in the next frame a person shows up next to him with the label of “internet ad about the thing you were just literally talking about” to which he screams in reply “where the fuck did you come from?”

Topical, but not necessarily funny. I had gotten the meme while I was sitting on my bed deciding whether to read or jack-off to porn; I had been close to making the shoulder shrug compromise of “why not both?” when I got the text. I looked at the meme, then the text he had written under it—

Cuddie : Funny, huh?

Usually I would ignore the message, but this irked me for some reason. Immediately I called him. The conversation started with confusion as to why I was calling him. He asked me if everything was ok, sounding panicked over the phone because somebody had called him using a phone number instead of a picture app with shitty audio. I wanted to know what made this meme so funny. First he explained the context from the show, but whenever someone is trying to convey to their friends something funny from a show, they usually fail horribly—summaries are not crafted for leisurely consumption, for they merely inform rather than edify or tickle. This explanation gave no merit to the meme. Then he talked about how it’s pertinent because of how the mercenary social media sorcerers use our information to create targeted ads. This I could appreciate, but still failed to find the humor. He surrendered with the conclusion that I’m “just a moody cunt that doesn’t like anything” (not an Australian, just crude).

“Perhaps,” I responded. “That that has been the only valid point made. I’m certainly more of a ‘moody cunt’ than that ‘meme’ was funny.” Here the conversation ended.

 Circumstances later that evening forced me to reflect on this conversation. I was still on my bed trying to decide whether I wanted to read or jack-off when something tiny fell on my chest. It glistened and wiggled and had antennae longer than its body, a silverfish! Nature’s horrible moisture whores. I pinched it, crushed it, then flicked it down into carpeted oblivion. No exclamations were made. It didn’t startle me into screaming: “A SILVERFISH! THOU HORRIBLE MOISTURE WHORE!”

I killed it, then got on my phone to watch a gangbang of a trans performer I like (like anything anyone can get into, porn isn’t much different than a show, politics, or sports; one finds the personalities they like and become their devotees). Supposedly there was piss in this video, but before I could enjoy it my attention was grabbed by an ad under the video box. Instead of the usual “AMAZON SPIDER BITE THAT PERMANENTLY INCREASES COCK SIZE”, it was: “EASY METHOD FOR ELIMINATING SILVERFISH”. I wondered if the panacea to my problems, inadequate cock-size and silverfish, was the same thing: Amazon Spiders. I looked at it and wondered what my friend Cuddie would think about the arachnoid method. I imagined his questions as either: “Do spiders eat silverfish?”, and/or, “What if the bite makes the silverfish bigger?”

Hypothetically answering these hypothetical questions in my mind exhausted me, so I decided to not call Cuddie.

Connor Mahoney resides in Sioux City, Iowa. He has no pets.