The Rise of 67

At this point “6 7” has officially taken over humanity. It started off small—just one kid in my class

whispering “six ate nine” like it was some ancient prophecy. Cute.

Harmless. Whatever. But then someone—no one knows who—decided to evolve it into

this cursed chant of “67.” And after that? Society collapsed. One day I walked

into class, minding my business, trying to mentally prepare for another tragic math lesson.

I sit down, open my notebook, and before my pencil even touches the paper someone behind

me goes, “Pssst… sixty-seven.” I ignore it. I’m mature. I’m composed.

But then the entire back row joins in like a cult meeting: “67… 67… 67.” I’m sitting there like,