Stuffed

A meme, a myth and a legend walk into a bar – it’s not a joke, this is our Thursday evening Metaphoricals Anonymous self-help group, which is also a serious Huddle In the Corner stereotype. For those who know him, Huddle In the Corner won’t be coming any more because apparently he can’t stand the same old thing, time and time again.

So. About me.

My name is Stuff, and I am a meme. I also have a brother called Stuff, but it’s more of a title, or perhaps a family name. In our immediate relatives there’s Uncle Right, Cousins Good and Hot, and my nephews Sterner, Strut and Nonsense. The point, the real point, is my brother, who always gets the good stuff, being the Stuff of Dreams. You don’t see him joining support groups, or going to therapy. In fact, the last time I saw him he was heading off for a rustic picnic with those dewy-eyed idiots Nostalgia, Close-knit Family and Idyllic Childhood.

Why do they do that? I just want to take the lot of them by the throat and shake some sense into them. Wake up and smell the reality. Of course Dreamy never wants to wake up when the good stuff is happening.

That’s family for you. By the way, has anyone seen Feud recently? According to Happy, there was some big bust-up with Rift.

Anyway, I don’t know why, but I really hit a low this week, which is why I’m standing up here, with my clothes on, because honestly it would be such a tedious stereotype if I was naked. Or had forgotten my presentation notes, which I don’t actually have, and it wouldn’t bother me anyway. I have been doing this stuff, or being this stuff, ever since Stuff of Dreams needed a night off and left me to handle the details.

Honestly, who does that? Leaves a highly skilled job to a completely untrained meme without even a hint as to what is needed? No wonder I stuffed it up completely. I mean, it looks so easy when Dreamy does it, play out a story in a mortal head, no need for logic or narrative consistency, just have a bit of fun.

The first time, that was a shocker, the sudden screams in the dark, night-sweats, all that stuff, but after the first few thousand years of being a fully mature meme, long before mortals even invented the idea of the meme, I’m used to it. Dreamy is busy, or got bored, and I step in with all my teeth fell out, or the tiger is gaining on me. The whole naked at work thing is a new one, but now I’ve had millennia of clothes, and work, it’s just ordinary stuff.

Which is my problem.

I can’t take any more ordinary. I want new narrative styles, dreams with a twist, perhaps excruciating guest stars, but not the way that Dreamy sneaks in the boy-or-girl next door, unexpectedly naked at work, and let’s just step into my office. I want to explore new themes, do new stuff, and expand my horizons, but mortals just cling on to what they know, being late, being naked, frantically hunting for a parking space. And the teeth, thing, of course. I am so, so, so bored of teeth falling out that I have taken to carrying spare pairs of dentures to work.

Oddly enough, that was a newer one. Dreamy had a good laugh when I mentioned the whole my dentures keep falling out story. Apparently, that is humorous.

So, this week, I did actually try something completely new. I thought it was going to be a big hit, give the first mortal a taste, let them talk about it at work, with their clothes on, and let the new scenario spread. It goes like this – you are a tap, with a drip, because of a worn washer and all you do is drip and drip and drip and no matter how hard someone turns you off you still drip and all the time you just want someone to turn you on so that you can gush, but no it’s just drip, drip, drip…

That was my high point, and let’s be honest, we all know what an irritating stereotype Dripping Tap can be, so I was sure the mortals would love it. I thought I had scaled the heights and plumbed the depths, until the next day.

Hey, babe, weird dream last night. I was a dripping tap.

Dripping tap?

Yeah. Said it was weird.

Wow. I dreamt I was naked at work.

Hey, babe, I dream about you naked at work and…

I did try my big new idea on a few mortals, but nothing. No buzz, no excitement, not even a whimper of dismay in the middle of the night. The nearest I got was the one who went and checked the bathroom and then gave me that ultimate critical thumbs down – ah, it was just a dream. Every damn mortal I tried it on completely failed to relate to a dripping tap. In fact, most of them were too busy trying to stop their teeth from being washed down the plughole.

Seriously, how is a meme supposed to handle this stuff?

It’s like the ultimate negative review, right? I really, really hate that…. sorry One Star, no offence.

So that’s me. Bad week.

Thank you. My name is Stuff, of Nightmares, and I am a meme who has become a stereotype of sibling rivalry, performance anxiety, job dissatisfaction and failed ambitions.

Could someone get me a drink? A Martini with a stuffed olive would be good.

# # #

This was written in response to the October #Blogbattle prompt of Dream.

Images from pixabay.com