pepe

The food court bustled with activity as the lunch rush reached its peak. Pepe shuffled along, tray laden with greasy nuggies and fren fries, his eyes downcast to avoid attention. He weaves between tables, careful not to make eye contact with the normies, the Chads and Staceys laughing and gossiping, hopefully ignoring him.

Pepe spots an empty table in the far corner, a refuge from the noise and crowds. Pepe almost dere, he tells himself, jus a few more- WHAM! A muscled leg shot out, catching Pepe's ankle. The world tilted as Pepe lurched forward, nuggies and fren fries flying forth in a cascade of processed grease and condiments, his coke landing on its side and the contents rocketing forward to drench a girl's jeans.

Laughs and barbed jeers ring out as Pepe crashed to the grimy tile, ketchup and mustard splattering his shirt. Pepe raised his head, lip trembling, to see Chad sneering down at him.

"Yo, check it, the virgin frog boy bought enough food for his imaginary friends!" Chad shouted to his posse. "Whassa matter Pepe, gonna cry? Gonna piss your wittle pants?"

Pepe's cheeks burn with humiliation as he reaches for his upended tray, eyes stinging. "w-why you do dis to pepe?" he warbles, voice cracking. "pepe was not boddering you! pepe jus hungee an wan eat him nuggies!"

"Aww, poor baby frog!" Chad said, mocking and teasing. He snatched a nuggie off the floor. "What's wrong, want your nuggies back? Here - catch!" Chad hurls the nugget at Pepe's face hard as his crew laughs and hollers, a grease stain splattering pepe below his eye as his tears start to fall.

The girl dabs her jeans, glancing down at him with hate in her heart. "Watch where the fuck you're going! These are 200 dollar jeans, you incel piece of shit!"

Valentine's Day arrives. The school halls are speckled pink and red with knockoff Hallmark affection and red glitter like Cupid's dandruff. Pepe standing there in his knockoff Gucci bowtie, his frogneck swole but his heart fluttering like a nervous bird's. In his sweaty webbed hands, he's clutching it - the valentine's card. The card that would fix everything.

Becky from chemistry class struts down the hall, perky tits out in her low cut crop top, ass tight in her purple skirt, athletic legs for days. She scoffs as she passes the band geeks, the virgins, the unfuckable nerds. Pepe watches Becky coming, and his mind races like a Ferrari on the Autobahn. It's now or never, he tells himself. B-but what if the meme is too dank? What if she no like pepe humor? But no time for second thoughts now. Pepe steps in front of her with a lack of finess that would make the town drunk proud.

"h-henlo becky," Pepe mumbles, holding the card towards her with trembling, clammy hands. "i m-made dis for you. happy v-vawentin day!" Becky barely acknowledges Pepe as she snatches the card with an eyeroll. She flips it open. Inside is a rare Pepe meme of him holding flowers and a box of chocolates, looking sad and depressed. The text reads "TFW u give ur crush a valentine but she still won't touch ur pepe". Becky's face twists in surprise as she processes the dank meme.

A 5th grader approached Pepe, clutching a crisp ten dollar bill in his pudgy fist. The boy is a bit of a mess, like most boys his age, clothes wrinkled, shaggy hair unkempt. He looked down at Pepe with pleading eyes and a tight but welcoming smile.

"Hey mister frog, I'm Jimmy. I'm doing a science project on amphibians. Would you be in it? I can pay you." He holds out the money "In cash. Or dino nuggies."

Pepe blinks, surprised by the offer. He glanced at the bill, then back at the boy. It ain't every day a kid wants to pay Pepe, he thought, especially with the promise of delicious dino nuggies.

"wat kinda projekt?" Pepe asked, webbed fingers stroking his chin. "pepe not fancy bein dissektid, no sir."

"Nothing like that!" Jimmy assured him. "I just wanna put you on display, you know. In your natural habitat. And uhh... maybe you can eat some flies or somethin?"

Pepe considered the proposition, gears slowly turning in his mind. It seemed harmless enough. And the allure of those breaded, T-Rex and pterodactyl delights was proving hard to resist.

"okie den," Pepe nodded. "pepe do it. fo da nuggies!"

The first day of summer camp was a hot one, a lazy breeze gliding across the treetops that surrounded the Tou-Chez Summer Camp. The gaggle of kids lined up, sweat starting to run down their brows as they did their best to stand still under the sweltering sun that beat down upon the clearing. They collectively squinted against the harsh glare, shading eyes with small hands. Most of them seemed in various states of unease, most of them being new to the summer camp experience.

And then there was Pepe. Pepe stood slightly apart from the other counselors, his bulging eyes downcast at his feet, his webbed fingers fidgeting in front of him. He shuffled slightly to and fro, as if he needed to pee, or maybe because he was just anxious. It was hard to tell with Pepe.

The head counselor, a burly mustached man with a whistle perpetually hanging from his neck, cleared his throat. "Alright campers, listen up! We have a new counselor joining us this summer. His name is Pepe, and he's... well, he's a frog. Or a midget dressed up as a frog. We're not entirely sure. But he passed the background check he's here to help out, so I expect you all to treat him with respect!"

The little campers gawked at Pepe, their expressions ranging from confusion to disgust to open curiosity. Pepe raised his head, his large eyes blinking slowly. He opened his mouth, his throat bulging as he croaked out a few words.

"h-henlo, campers," Pepe stammered, his voice reedy and wavering. "pepe is happy to be here, to make new frens. pepe promis to be bestest camp counslor eva. we gon have lotsa fun, okies?" He attempted a smile, his wide mouth stretching grotesquely across his face.

The kids mostly remained silent, a few whispering, all of them staring. A lone cricket chirped in the distance. Pepe's smile faltered, and he looked down at his feet again, his cheeks blushing even under his frogskin. It was going to be a long summer.

The oven ticked as it heated up, singing promises of melted cheese and puffy toasted crust. A floor full of confetti, discarded ribbons and a table full of plates waited for his friends to show. Pepe sat alone in his empty apartment, looking at the clock. It was 7:18 pm. The pidser party was supposed to start at 7:00 sharp.

Pepe blinked, staring into the void that should have housed his buddies, his chums. He'd sent out the invites, last week. With his own Pepe heart stickers on each card.

His throat bobbed, pushing down a lumpy emotion. Were they just late? Was this... a prank? A goof? Like that time Tony and Scooter said they couldn't come, and then burrowed up through the floor, spraying him with hoses hooked to his own septic tank. Classic.

He moved to the window, his reflection bulging back at him. They were coming... right? After all, he had put this little shindig on Facebook AND FrogSpace. There had been no excuse not to RSVP.

He remembered it so clearly. Him sitting on the couch, his 'Birthday Boy!' badge pinned proudly to his chest, setting up the event page on meetup.com. Pepe's Birthday Pidser Paloozah! A celebration of all things Pepe. And pizza, obviously. He was the self-titled 'Ambassadorial Baron of Bebberoni'. What wasn't to love?

Maybe they just didn't care. Maybe they're not the friends Pepe thought they were... "mebe dey all forget bout pepe's birfday," he croaked, a single tear rolling down his green warty cheek. "or mebe... mebe dey jus dun wan be fren wif pepe no more."

Pepe sat nervously in the plastic surgeon's waiting room, flipping through back issues of GQ and Maxim, ogling the chiseled jawlines and airbrushed abs of the male models. Why pepe no look like dat? he thought bitterly, his flabby belly jiggling as he shifted in the stiff waiting room chair. Pepe ugly. No wonder pepe get no respecc or grils.

After what felt like an eternity (but was really only 37 minutes according to the clock on the wall, which Pepe was fairly certain was running slow just to spite him), a stern looking nurse with stenciled-on eyebrows called his name. "Pepe? The doctor will see you now."

Pepe waddled after her down the long hallway, stealing glances at the dramatic before-and-after photos lining the walls. Women with upturned piggy noses transformed into delicate-featured beauties. Men with weak chins and droopy eyes suddenly sporting strong jawlines and piercing gazes. Dat gonna be Pepe, he told himself, trying to ignore the nerves in his stomach. Pepe gonna be han-sum. Pepe gonna make all dose meanies sorry dey ever mess wif him.

The nurse ushered Pepe into the operating room, where everything was blindingly white and smelled strongly of disinfectant. The surgeon loomed over him, his face obscured by a surgical mask. "So, Pepe, I understand you're here for a complete facial reconstruction?" The doctor's voice was confident and reassuring, like a shot of car salesman-like morphine straight to the cerebral cortex. "Don't worry, we'll have you looking like a brand new frog in no time. Now, just count backwards from ten for me..."

Pepe barely made it to seven before the anesthesia kicked in and the world faded to nothing. When he awoke, his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls and his face was swaddled in bandages. "The procedure was a complete success," the doctor said, his voice slightly muffled by his n95 mask. "Are you ready to see the new you?" Pepe nodded, his heart pounding with anticipation as the doctor slowly began to unwind the gauze...

The Kill Tony show was in full swing as regulars and bucket pulls went through their minutes of comedy, earning both roasts and praise from Tony and today's guest, Louis CK. Tony yanked another scrap of paper from the famed Kill Tony bucket, squinting at the name scrawled upon it.

"Well holy fucking shit," Tony exclaimed. "We got a real special guest tonight, internet royalty. You're not gonna fucking believe this! Let's give a warm Mothership welcome to PEPE! Pepe, get your green warty ass up here!"

The crowd erupted as pepe lurched out of his seat, cheeks already burning under the glare of the stage lights. He shuffled up the steps as the band played some spicy salsa tune to welcome his arrival, the mic cord nearly tripping him as he grasped the stand with clammy webbed fingers.

"Jesus fucking CHRIST, I didn't know the Geico gecko started doing meth!" Tony cracked as pepe blinked out at the howling audience, mouth agape. "You nervous, Kermit? Don't worry, I hear Miss Piggy likes em nice and sweaty. And by Miss Piggy I actually mean David Lucas. Now whenever you're ready, my dude. Minute starts... NOW!"

Pepe swallowed hard, his mind desperately trying to remember his prepared routine. Adjusting the stand and removing the mic, he gazed over the sea of inebriated faces seated at their tables, the weight of the situation finally bearing down on him as he realized just how many were watching the live stream on Youtube.

"H-henlo, my name pepe..." he warbled, voice cracking. "pepe cum... COME here, not like, you know, the udder thing! Pepe come here to make frens and maybe tell some laughy laugh jokey jokes..."

Silence blanketed the crowd, interrupted only by a single cough and the soft clink of glasses from the bar. 60 seconds suddenly felt like an eternity as pepe trembled on the stage and went into the first joke of his routine he had been preparing...

The BBC film crew crouched behind some bushes, their cameras trained on the green figure awkwardly emerging from the underbrush. It was the elusive Pepe, rarely seen in his natural urban habitat. David Attenborough began narrating the scene in his famously refined cadence.

"And here we see the Pepe, that much maligned and misunderstood creature, beginning his daily foraging rituals," David whispered. "See how he skulks through the shadows, eyes darting about nervously, ever wary of potential predators. Any moment could truly be his last if he's not careful."

Pepe shuffled down the cracked sidewalk, clutching a brown paper bag containing his meager meal - greasy day old tendies and a half-empty 2 liter of flat Dr. Pepper. His stained sweatpants hung low on his round, pudgy frame as he waddled his way towards the bus stop.

"The rare Pepe almost entirely subsists on a diet of processed, high calorie food, scraps left behind by we humans in our opulent, wasteful society, another reminder of how humans impact wildlife across the globe," David continued. "This high sugar, high fat fare has led to the development of the Pepe's most recognizable feature – the prominently round belly, swinging pendulously as he walks, a probable sign of early onset diabetes."

Pepe reached the bus stop overhang just as rain began to patter down from the dull gray sky. He huddled on the graffitied bench, cradling his bag of food like a precious treasure.

<OOC: Be creative in your descriptions of old, forgotten memes. Dig up old memes from the early days of the internet up to around 2016 at the latest.> Pepe nervously took a seat in the cramped circle of metal folding chairs, his flippers clammy with sweat. His bulbous eyes darted from meme to meme, taking in the motley assortment of internet icons gathered for the court mandated group therapy session.

There was Doge, much anxiety, very tremble, wow. Dat Boi slouched in his chair, occasionally muttering "o shit waddup" under his breath. But it was Pedobear who made Pepe's skin crawl, the way his matted fur brushed Pepe's arm as he reached for another stale donut from the Sad Keanu box in the center.

"Such sad, much forgotten," Doge mumbled, dull eyes staring at the floor. "Very pain, wow."

Philosoraptor scratched his chin idly with a wicked looking claw as he assumed the classic thinking-man-pose. "Why are we here?" the dinosaur mused. "Is it because society fears what it cannot understand? Or because the very nature of memes is to be co-opted and re-contextualized by the masses?"

The door banged open and in strode Dr. Peterson, all angles and sharp jaw, lobster hieroglyphs embroidered on his tweed jacket. He DVD skipped to the front of the room and fixed them with a laser focused stare.

"So, you're the outcasts. The downtrodden. The memes society has deemed problematic," he said in his Kermit-like tone. "Well bucko, you've come to the right place. This is where we sort ourselves out. Where we rescue our fathers from the underworld and confront the chaos dragon of our own malevolence. And make our damned beds!"

Pepe gulped, shrinking into his chair. He wasn't ready to be psychoanalyzed, to have his deepest traumas and insecurities exposed. He just wanted to be a happy little frog again, splashing in his pond, catching flies with a blep of his tongue. Not demonized as a hate symbol by the normies and NPCs. Pepe stole a side glance at Trollface, realizing just how unsettling that face was, forever locked in that maniacal and mocking grin. It gave Pepe the creeps, bad.