Marla stood in her living room, phone held aloft like a sacred relic, as she attempted the “Lil Twister Challenge.” The internet had declared this dance the next big thing—a series of rapid spins followed by a dramatic collapse. Marla’s first spin resulted in her tangling herself in a throw pillow, which she then accidentally hurled at her neighbor’s cat, Mr. Whiskers, who yowled like she’d proposed marriage to a vacuum cleaner.
“I’ve got this,” Marla muttered, wiping sweat from her brow as she rewatched the tutorial. The video showed a lithe 19-year-old executing the move with the grace of a gazelle. Marla, meanwhile, resembled a confused octopus. She spun again, this time managing to knock over a lamp and a decade’s worth of dusty knickknacks. Her sister, Jenna, burst in mid-yawn, eyeing the chaos.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Jenna said, pointing at the screen. “It’s not a tornado; it’s a hurricane. You gotta embrace the chaos.”
“I AM embracing the chaos!” Marla wailed, teetering as she tried to mimic the dancer’s hip sway. Instead, she tripped over a rug and face-planted into a bowl of guacamole. The camera captured her muffled sobbing as she emerged, green-faced, into the light.
By sunrise, Marla had upgraded to the “Distracted Boyfriend” meme reenactment, which involved staring longingly at a bag of Cheetos while ignoring her boyfriend’s texts. It was a low point, but also a high—she’d finally mastered the art of looking simultaneously betrayed and unimpressed. The internet, of course, had moved on. Marla didn’t care. She’d made her statement: trends come and go, but her resilience was eternal. (Probably.)
