Marjorie clutched her phone like a lifeline, squinting at the TikTok app as if it might explain itself. Her granddaughter, Lana, had gifted her the device six months prior with a sigh that could’ve powered a small city. “It’s just videos, Nana,” Lana had said. “You dance, I laugh. Easy.”
Now, here she was, 3 a.m., in her polyester pants, attempting the “Renegade” dance. The internet had called it “a cultural phenomenon.” Marjorie called it a series of contortions that made her knees creak like a haunted house. She paused, mid-twist, and glared at the screen. “This isn’t a dance,” she muttered. “It’s a conspiracy.”
Lana burst into the room, clutching a mug of tea so hot it could’ve melted steel. “What are you DOING?” she shrieked, nearly dropping the mug on Marjorie’s head.
“I’m participating in the zeitgeist!” Marjorie declared, wobbling as she tried to replicate the dance. Her hip popped audibly. “This is how we stay relevant!”
“You’re 72!” Lana hissed, yanking the phone from her hands. “You can’t just…\” She froze. On the screen, a 10-year-old boy was lip-syncing to Marjorie’s failed dance, captioned: “When your grandma goes hard.”
The video blew up. Within hours, Marjorie’s inbox overflowed with messages. “Queen of the Renegade!” “Teach me your ways!” Even a meme account called “Dad Jokes & Grandmas” tagged her. Lana, meanwhile, was too busy crying into a pillow to notice.
The next day, Marjorie stood in front of the camera again, wearing a sequined jacket and a determined look. “Hello, internet,” she said. “I’m not done yet.”
Lana stared at the screen, then at her grandmother. “You’re gonna make me a grandmother of a trend, aren’t you?”
Marjorie winked. “Only if you teach me the ‘Renegade’ dance properly.”
Lana groaned. “I’m never leaving this house again.”
