If there's one thing I've learned about Ohio, it's that the moment you think things can't get any weirder, they definitely will.
I was still riding the high from Karen-ing a bunch of alien influencers back to whatever neon-lit rave they came from, but Ohio didn't seem too interested in letting me bask in the glory for long. The sky above me darkened, not in the glitchy TikTok-filter way, but in a moody, emo-kid-who-never-grew-out-of-MCR way.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, but it wasn't like normal thunder. It sounded more like...guitar riffs? And not just any guitar riffs. It was My Chemical Romance, and if I wasn't mistaken, they were playing the intro to "Welcome to the Black Parade."
"Oh no," I muttered. "Not again."
The corn around me swayed dramatically, as if some unseen force was blowing through it in slow motion. I turned toward my meme-zombie army, half of whom were in the middle of a synchronized Renegade, when the ground started shaking. At first, I thought maybe Ohio was about to open up some kind of pit to another dimension, but then I saw them.
Emo kids.
They came over the hill in waves, decked out in skinny jeans, band tees, and enough black eyeliner to make a raccoon jealous. Their hair was all shades of edgy, from jet black to neon streaks, and their faces were locked in expressions of existential angst. Behind them, the sky grew even darker, a massive cloud of despair hanging over the entire landscape.
"Oh, come on," I groaned, clutching my phone like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. "Is this really happening?"
But it wasn't just happening, it was about to happen. The emo kids marched forward, led by a tall, gaunt figure in a faded Hot Topic hoodie, his hair obscuring half his face. He carried a flag with a broken heart on it, and as he got closer, I could hear him mumbling lyrics under his breath.
"When I was... a young boy... my father... took me into the city..."
"Nope," I said, backing up. "I am not dealing with this. Not today."
But Ohio had other plans. The leader of the emo kids stopped in front of me, dramatically throwing his hair out of his face to reveal sad, sunken eyes.
"You," he said, his voice low and raspy, like he hadn't had a glass of water since 2007. "You don't understand the pain of existence. The weight of the world. The crushing inevitability of, "
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I interrupted, waving my hand. "I get it. Life sucks, you're sad, and the world is full of darkness. But can we skip to the part where you tell me why you're here?"
The emo kid's lip quivered, and for a moment, I thought he was about to break into tears. "You mock us, outsider. But we are the bringers of the Midwest Emo Apocalypse. The sorrow of Ohio is eternal, and you, with your meme zombies and shallow dances, are a blight upon the land."
I blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
He gestured to his emo army, who had now stopped their march and were standing perfectly still, staring off into the distance like they were in a permanent state of melancholy. "We are here to drown Ohio in the sadness of 2000s emo culture. You will fall before our emotional onslaught."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Emo kids? An emo apocalypse? I was already dealing with corn cultists and alien vibe-checkers, and now I had to face down the existential dread of an entire army of Midwest emos? Ohio really was trying to break me.
I sighed, pulling out my phone. "Look, I've had a really weird week, so if you could just go back to your Hot Topic and cry into some band merch, that'd be great."
The emo leader's eyes darkened even further. "We do not simply retreat, outsider. The weight of our sorrow is unmatched. You will be consumed by the overwhelming power of our emotional ballads."
As if on cue, the rest of the emo army began singing softly, their voices blending together in a haunting, low chorus of "Helena." I felt the ground tremble beneath me, the air thick with an oppressive sense of sadness. Even my meme zombies started to slow down, their usually peppy Fortnite dances turning into lethargic shuffles. A couple of them even dropped to their knees, overcome by the sheer weight of the emo energy.
This was bad. If I didn't do something, my army was about to be turned into a bunch of weeping, eyeliner-smudged wrecks.
"Alright," I muttered to myself, scrolling through TikTok. "I need something that can counteract this emo energy."
I flicked through a few filters, none of them seemed right. And then I saw it: "Hype Beast Energy Overload." It was a TikTok filter that boosted your confidence to ridiculous levels, often used in gym bros' motivational videos.
"This better work," I said, activating the filter. I raised my phone toward the emo leader, watching as the filter enveloped him in a bright, neon light.
At first, he squinted, confused by the sudden change. But then, his entire demeanor shifted. The heavy gloom that hung over him was replaced by an absurd burst of confidence. He straightened up, brushing the hair out of his face completely. His voice, once low and raspy, suddenly became louder and more assertive.
"Yo!" he shouted, flexing his arms. "I feel... I feel alive! Like, who even cares about sadness, bro? Let's hit the gym! Let's grind!"
His emo army looked at him, horrified by the transformation. A few of them even gasped, clutching their hearts like they'd just witnessed the ultimate betrayal.
"No!" one of the emo kids cried. "He's... he's become a Chad!"
I grinned, watching the chaos unfold. The emo leader, now completely consumed by Hype Beast Energy, began tearing off his hoodie, revealing a tank top underneath that read "No Days Off." He started doing push-ups right there in the middle of the cornfield, shouting things like "GRIND SET!" and "EARN THAT GAINS, BRO!"
The rest of the emo kids, seeing their leader transformed, began to panic. Some of them fled back into the cornfield, while others just stood there, utterly lost without their moody overlord.
Within minutes, the Midwest Emo Apocalypse had been completely derailed by the raw power of Hype Beast Energy.
I shook my head, laughing. "Ohio, you are just full of surprises, aren't you?"
The former emo leader, now a full-on Chad, jumped to his feet, flexing his muscles. "Thanks, bruh! I'm gonna go do some squats and meal prep. Later!"
And just like that, he sprinted off into the distance, his emo army scattered and defeated.
I let out a long breath, glancing at my phone. "Well, that was... something."
My meme zombies, now free of the emo influence, resumed their Fortnite dances, as if nothing had ever happened. The cornfield was peaceful again, for now.
"Alright, Ohio," I muttered, slipping my phone back into my pocket. "What's next?"
After derailing the Midwest Emo Apocalypse with the power of Hype Beast Energy, I thought, just for a second, that maybe Ohio would chill out for a bit. That maybe, just maybe, I'd get a moment to breathe. But, of course, this is Ohio we're talking about, and Ohio never lets up.
As I wandered through the cornfield, trying to figure out what the hell my next move should be, I heard it. The unmistakable thump-thump-thump of a bass line that could only mean one thing, trouble.
"Now what?" I muttered, stopping in my tracks.
The sound grew louder, vibrating through the corn like a low-grade earthquake. It wasn't just any bass line, though. It had that raw, aggressive energy you'd expect from a rap battle in some back alley. Before I could even try to guess what was coming, the cornfield parted like the Red Sea, and from the shadows emerged a crew of dudes that looked like they'd just walked off the set of an early 90s gangster rap music video.
The leader, a guy with gold chains hanging from his neck and a snapback turned backward, stepped forward. His swagger was off the charts, and his posse followed close behind, all wearing matching oversized jackets with "Ohio OG" stitched across the back in gold thread. They didn't walk so much as they glided, every move a perfect display of cool confidence.
"Yo!" the leader shouted, pointing a finger right at me. "Who's this wannabe walking around in our turf?"
I blinked, completely thrown off. "Uh, your turf? You mean this random cornfield?"
The dude sneered, his gold chains rattling as he took another step closer. "You must be new to this, homie. This here's the heart of Ohio. And me? I'm King D, the OG of this land. Ain't nobody walk through Ohio without paying respect to the original gangstas."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This dude was serious. He thought he ran Ohio? And that too, from the middle of a cornfield? Ohio had somehow mashed up every meme, cryptid, and internet culture trend, and now I was dealing with a full-on gangster rap crew.
"Alright, King D," I said, trying to keep my cool. "Look, man, I don't know what game you're playing, but I'm the Brain Rot Overlord around here. I've got a literal army of brain-rotted TikTok zombies, and I've already dealt with corn cultists, emo kids, and alien influencers. So, if you want to throw down, I'm ready."
King D smirked, flashing a grill full of diamonds. "TikTok zombies? Bruh, that's weak. We don't play with no brain-dead kids out here. We're about that real life. We run this place. Straight outta Ohio, OG style."
Before I could respond, one of the guys in his crew pulled out a giant boom box, the kind you only see in old music videos, and cranked it up. The beat that dropped was heavy, and within seconds, King D and his crew started dancing. But this wasn't just any dance. They were breakdancing in the middle of the cornfield, flipping and spinning with impossible speed, each move somehow syncing perfectly with the bass line.
My jaw dropped. "What the actual hell?"
King D spun on his head, flipped up to his feet, and pointed at me again. "You think you got what it takes, Overlord? Step up. But you better know, in Ohio, it's all about the battle. You gotta prove you belong."
Oh great. A dance battle. Of course.
I sighed, pulling out my phone. If this guy wanted a battle, I'd give him one. I scrolled through my TikTok filters, searching for something that could match this ridiculousness. Finally, I found it: "Ultimate Fortnite Dance Battle Mode."
The moment I activated the filter, the air around me changed. My TikTok zombies, who had been standing idly by, immediately snapped into action. Their bodies shifted into full battle mode, their movements now sharper, faster, and far more synchronized than before.
"Alright," I said, pointing at King D. "You want a battle? Let's do this."
The beat from the boom box intensified, and my TikTok zombies launched into action. They were hitting Fortnite dances at superhuman speed, flossing and doing the Orange Justice with an intensity I'd never seen before. The energy was wild. Cornstalks swayed as if they were caught in the middle of a nightclub rave, and my army of brain-rotted kids moved like they'd just leveled up in some weird RPG.
King D's eyes narrowed, but he didn't back down. He and his crew went even harder, their breakdancing moves getting more complex by the second. One of his guys did a backflip off a corn stalk, landed in a windmill spin, and finished with a smooth slide across the dirt. The whole thing looked like something straight out of an America's Got Talent audition.
My TikTok zombies weren't slacking, though. One of them pulled off the Floss at warp speed, moving so fast that he became a blur of motion. Another kid hit the Hype dance so hard, he nearly floated off the ground. It was ridiculous, but somehow, I was actually winning.
King D, realizing he was losing ground, gritted his teeth. "You think you can just roll up into Ohio and outdance us?" he snarled. "No way, bruh."
He snapped his fingers, and one of his crew members handed him something, a massive gold microphone. He spun it in his hand like it was a weapon and then pointed it at me. "You want a battle, Overlord? It's time to freestyle."
Freestyle? Oh no. This was about to go to a whole new level of cringe.
The beat changed, morphing into something slower but still heavy, like a classic 90s rap track. King D adjusted his snapback, and without warning, he launched into a freestyle rap.
"When I was young, yeah, I ran these streets,
Ohio OG, ain't no one compete,
Corn in my veins, but I got that heat,
You TikTok kids? Y'all weak on your feet."
I cringed hard. The guy wasn't bad, but hearing someone rap about Ohio cornfields was something I wasn't emotionally prepared for. Still, the crowd around him cheered like it was the best thing they'd ever heard.
King D pointed at me, challenging me to respond. The whole crew fell silent, waiting for my comeback.
I wasn't a rapper. Not by any stretch. But I had meme powers, and that had to count for something, right?
I scrolled through my TikTok app again, praying for a miracle. And there it was: "Meme Rap Generator."
"Here goes nothing," I muttered.
I activated the filter, feeling the energy surge through me. The beat dropped again, and suddenly, words started flowing out of my mouth like I was possessed by the ghost of some cursed internet rapper.
"I'm the Overlord, here to take your throne,
Got meme powers, yeah, I'm in the zone,
Your corn cult weak, better leave me alone,
TikTok zombies, they're breaking your bones."
The crowd of King D's crew looked confused for a second, but then a few of them started nodding along to the beat. The TikTok meme energy was spreading. I didn't stop there.
"You reppin' Ohio, but I got the crown,
Brain Rot Overlord, takin' you down,
Your freestyle's weak, yeah, it's goin' down,
Fortnite's my weapon, I'll spin you around."
By the time I finished, the entire field was buzzing with energy. King D's crew stood there, stunned. The cornfield had somehow transformed into a makeshift concert, with my TikTok zombies doing Fortnite dances in the background, completely synchronized with the beat.
King D stepped back, sweat dripping from his forehead. He looked around at his crew, who were slowly starting to defect, nodding along to the power of meme rap.
Finally, King D let out a frustrated sigh, throwing his gold microphone to the ground. "Alright, alright. You win this round, Overlord. You've got bars."
I couldn't believe it. Did I just win a rap battle in the middle of an Ohio cornfield? I stood there, trying to process it, as King D and his crew slowly backed away, disappearing into the corn like they were retreating to their underground rap lair.
"Well," I muttered, wiping the sweat from my brow. "That just happened."