Bal Mukundass was fundamentally flawed in more ways than one, he knew it, his parents knew it, his ex-girlfriend Sophie knew it, and even the cosmos knew it. The question was, was he going to take constructive baby steps to correct it? No, that would make him bland. He liked the cesspool of misery, the unending void that made him want to conquer the world and laugh at plebeians as they cried. Bal was a complicated man, probably why Sophie dumped him-the mundane, uninspiring excuse of a human being, who couldn’t have handled him, even if he came with a manual. He just wanted to go to the gym, have his protein shake, and make plans for world domination, as every based gigachad does. He had an undisputed sigma grindset and was undoubtedly the precipice of perfection, but he had a secret. It certainly was not him having mommy issues as people always misconstrued. 


Ever since he was a little kid, he had been plagued by glimpses of vague visions, so insubstantial and inconsequential in his eyes, that he didn’t deem it worthy to be brought to anyone’s notice. As he grew up, his dreams became more material and vivid. Flashes of the pyramids, hieroglyphs, a set of alluring kohl-lined eyes, and a whisper of a name he couldn’t take his mind off of. Cleopatra (Cleopy pie as he preferred to call her). He brushed it off his shoulder and chalked it up to global warming which might have made him think of the desert. But it never did the trick, he could never ignore the beguiling call of Cleopy-pie, which also explained why he was deep down in the undiscovered tombs of Egypt, trying to seek that which hasn’t been discovered for thousands of years. As for how he found out the exact location? Well, it’s not that big of an enigma. He just followed her banshee-esqe wails. She did, after all, send him visions in 720p.


Being there, in the tomb, just sent a surge of righteousness and testosterone through his veins. It felt like fitting the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. This was it, this was where the 20 years of unending visions led him to, the entrance of a creepy tomb that did not scare the living daylights out of him. Part of him wanted to go back home and draft apology letters to Sophie. “We go jim” he murmured to himself. He was not going to succumb to the wiles of that unbearably insipid woman. 


 As he headed into the dusty old tomb, he couldn’t help but be awed by the precision with which the hieroglyphs were engraved on every pillar he looked at. He walked for what felt like ages, and except for the occasional mummy and hieroglyphs, he couldn’t find anything profoundly interesting. As he reached the end of the tunnels and his mental strength, in front of him was a rock, just a plain old, uninspiring rock, which had some hieroglyphs. He couldn’t for the life of him decipher the hieroglyphs. After getting so far, he did not want to go home empty-handed. With an exhausted sigh, he said “Hey Cleopy-pie I know you’re kinda mummified and rotting in a tomb but I could use some help right now, not that I can’t handle it” and waited. He wondered if Cleopy-pie ghosted him, which would be a shame because he went against all his sigma instincts to ask for help.


Just as he was going to give up and write poems for Sophie, he heard her, whispering to run his fingers along the hieroglyphs and rearrange them. He moved the incoherent string of symbols around, which were now beginning to take the shape of a cat. He slid the last piece into its place and held his breath. A deep rumble arose. “Meow”, the catacombs roared. The bland, insipid wall before him parted to reveal the consequence of twenty years of unbridled misery and visions. There it was, the long-lost tomb of Cleopy-pie.


 He reverently walked in, did not care that it smelled like cat poop, he trailed around the sarcophagus and opened it, ever so softly, fully expecting to see Cleopy-pie, the woman of his dreams, but alas, his dreams lay unfulfilled in front of him. In front of him laid an empty coffin, but the woman of his visions was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a diaphanous scroll with a cat watermark etched onto it. Intrigued, he reached for the papyrus and gasped. He could not believe what his eyes beheld. For what he saw was not a sight worthy of mortal eyes. He saw cats, in their highest manifestation of power and beauty. Cats on thrones, ruling the world, cats in situationships, cats going to the gym, and ending tyranny. The rampant glory of cats is all depicted in one flimsy papyrus. It was a sight beyond the comprehension of the inaneness of the human brain.


He knew it now. The purpose of his being brought to the tomb. It was never about his mom-Cleopy pie, it was always about the cats. It was his destiny to restore the prestige and honour that had been lost. He had to. He left the tomb filled with a sense of purpose and responsibility. What he had to do was not easy, but he could persevere through the hurdles. 


After the culmination of years of hard work, dedication, whey protein, and sacrifice, he had done it. It started with him experimenting with portraits of cats and humorous captions overlaid on top of them. He called them memes- short for meow-meow. The cat memes were an instant hit and quickly became a cultural phenomenon, spreading through social media platforms. Bal Mukundass had finally accomplished spreading the gospel of our feline overlords, which moulded the internet into the cesspit that it is, and it all came from one sigma simping for an Egyptian carcass.


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