** Little Timmy sits on his bed, afraid, lonely. He is terrified of the darkness. It consumes him like fuel on an engine. Little Timmy is alone. He looks out the window. All he sees is black. Either all the lights have gone out, or he lives in the center of Detroit. He hears whispers. Whispers all around him. Poor Little Timmy is trembling. He rocks softly on the mattress. "we want dank memes. we want dank memes." He cannot hear the whispers. They haunt him. The whispers get louder, barely audible. Little Timmy still cannot hear them. He shakes on the bed, cold, horrified, with sticky palms. "we want dank memes. we want dank memes." Little Timmy calls out for his parents in desperation. His parents are not there. His cry is absorbed by the darkness. He is engulfed in pitch black. Timmy has sweat running down his temple. The whispers grow even louder. Timmy could hear them now. What did they want? What did it mean? "We want dank memes. we want dank memes." It was almost like a chant. A ritual. Timmy was at the brink of unconsiousness. "We want dank memes, we want dank memes!" Timmy did not understand. He did not want to understand. He could see the light of the heavens now... he was almost there... "We want dank memes!! We want dank memes!!" The noise was deafening. It kept growing louder. "WE WANT DANK MEMES!! WE WANT DANK MEMES!" At last, Timmy understood. He had wandered into the cold, dark depths of the GC Offtopic subforum. He could hear 8 year olds, crying for attention. He could hear players giving away euros for likes. He heard scattered "xD"s everwhere. "WE WANT DANK MEMES! WE WANT DANK MEMES!!" And then suddenly all was calm. Everything went silent. The admins had come. The ban hammer was raised. The spam subsided. Timmy was saved. **
