So there I was, sipping my English black tea in Ireland. The tea of course came from india, but the tea in India originated from the British empire planting it there (which they got from China). But enough of tea....

This had nothing to do with the tea; it was all about the upcoming fiat-economic apocalypse. So I was sitting on my king's wall watching the plebs (#NoCoiners) go by. My red oak wood bokken (wooden training sword) was ready at my side (I had acquired it from a theatre company I worked with that went under; they had no idea its value). My plush monkey friend who kept me company on the lonely lockdown nights sat their impertinently with one hand on his holster, ready to blast the plebs into smithereens.

I hated #NoCoiners. I despised them with all my heart. It was the way they looked at me with disgust and repulsion that really did it for me. They hated that I had surpassed the fiat hunger games. That I didn't give a fuck, and behaved like a human being in their society which demanded uniformity and conformity. I was always a rebel without a cause, they couldn't tame me for all the fiat notes in China.
Even the fiat corporations hated me.

I remember when Sony BMG called me up asking to sign with them.
I asked them "What can you give me that I don't already have?"
They said they could get me more fans.
I told them I already had a fan, and that it doesn't matter if it is 1 fan or 1 million fans. You cannot quantify the value of a human life.
They then offered me money. I laughed, telling them I was on the blockchain. I didn't need their pieces of paper.
Sony BMG exploded at me, shouting and screaming, saying "I don't understand how this works"
I responded "No! You don't understand how this works, old man! I am the storm cloud from which the superman will thunder through. You are a ghost speaking gibberish to me. The world has moved on. We don't need middle-men like you anymore."
He then screeched incoherent guttural sounds saying I was finished. I calmly retorted "No. You are finished" as I hung up.

I was so fucking smug with myself, that was until the HiveWatchers got me and took away me cool music video earnings. I had Sony BMG right where I wanted them, on their death throes, but as they muttered guttural incoherent gargles, I could see in their eyes they were laughing at me. I was so fucking furious I had to take it out on someone. #NoCoiners would be the choice target; the weaker, the unwise were always the easiest targets.

As the #NoCoiners walked past my beautiful land I shouted "Hey #NoCoiner! How is your poopy bum!?"
That always irritated them. I had a mountain of the finest toilet roll sitting behind me. The #NoCoiners couldn't even get enough because I had bought all the stores out and set fire to the toilet roll factories to be sure.

That night about 30 of them came for me. I put on my Chaos Mask.

Every time I wore it I could feel the psychosis flowing through my very core and out of every pore.

About 5 of the #NoCoiners were killed or maimed by the wooden spike traps I had set up. They had brought baseball bats, hockey sticks etc, but I was ready.

"Hey! #NoCoiner! Over here!" I shouted from an open area of my garden.

"We've got you surrounded! Hand over the toilet roll or we will fucking gut you!" they screeched.

I began laughing maniacally. They had no idea how fucking strong I was. I trained everyday to become the greatest MMA fighter the world would never know. I lifted trees to build strength. I wore bags full of weights everywhere I went, because I KNEW! that that this planet's gravity was not strong enough for me.

"Come at me bro!" I laughed.

One by one I struck each of them on their heads with my wooden booken, killing them instantly. I practiced every evening with my bokken on the wall where I would drink tea, honing my footwork for tight spaces, but as they fought me I was in an open space. My full power was unleashed. One by one I struck them down, until there was only a dozen left.
As they fled, I corralled them like the fiat-slave cattle they were.

"Hey #NoCoiners! What's HOT?!" my plush monkey said as he threw my cool lighter with Jame's Dean on it, to the ground, lighting the napalm trap, and setting those #NoCoiners ablaze.

Those that tried to run back were met with swift deaths as I punched their skulls, insta-killing them (something I had learnt from Mas Oyama).

I checked their wallets, for their addresses, and then raided their empty houses (occasionally having to deal with children witnesses). It had been another productive day. As I took off my Chaos Mask I could feel a part of me having slipped away.

I'm just a humble coin farmer, tending to my coins, but the #NoCoiners jealously would always know no bounds, and it was up to me and my plush monkey to save the day.

I was the good guy.

The End?

@RiskDebonair
Irish Writer, Poet, & Agent of H.I.V.E.