The man-sized moth’s antennas twitched.

“Now that I think of it, I haven’t heard much from the Loch Ness these days.”

The slender and featureless humanoid in front of him against its tie.

“Yes, most modern folklore is online now. We’re rebranded as, ‘creepypasta’ now.”

“Creepy. Pasta?”

“Correct. It’s got roots in internet-speak. Here’s my email but feel free to reach out to me on Twitter too.”

“I… don’t have a Twitter.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. A lot of the old cryptids are getting traction online. Wanted to get you up to speed.”

“Do I have to wear a suit and tie? Or kill people like that Keith kid?”

“Kevin and no. You’re a classic. Currently, people are more interested in shipping you.”

“Shipping?”

“Making you their husbando? Drawing you as a himbo? Making you kiss their OCs.”

“I hate all of that.”

“Well,” it stood up to its full height, nearly double the winged man’s, “That’s what they’re into now. You can either get with it or get left behind. You can either leave a big footprint or you can shoot for the stars.”

“UFOs are back in?”

“193 sightings in PA alone last year!”

“It just seems like a strange time to be making appearances…”

“You probably didn’t even hear about the Area 51 Facebook event last year…”

His giant wings fluttered a moment as he stared at the business card in his hands.

“I’ll think about it.”

And the moth man was alone.

/////

Short fiction by toadking07 7/6/2020