I say old chap, you know those blasted Punk things?

The message popped up on the Discords. It was a young whippersnapper of my acquaintance. A fine fellow, despite his penchant for pickled onions.

What? Those funny little blocky things that we all bought? Little picture things?

My lip curled as I thought of the Punks in question. I had indeed bought a few as had many of my compadres. The fear being of course that if you were found out not to have bought any you might get a bit of a teasing down at Hive Headquarters.

One of yours bloody well sold!

Exclaimed the young walloper of some renown.

I beg your fucking pardon? Who the fuck would go and buy one of those things? Well, apart from fucking everybody last week or whenever it was?

I scratched my chin. It was a fine chin. It had beached on many a lady's nelly and I was quite fond of it.

I was quite puzzled. I had a vague memory of putting one of the little punkys up for sale but I had never really believed that anyone would buy the damned thing.

I found myself missing it despite not knowing what it was or what it was for.

A bit like that strangely smooth bit of skin on my right testicle.

I think it was a fatty that bought it.

Opined my Punk-Informant.

Fuck, a fatty? Seriously? Fucking hell, I have gone and given a fatty a punk for money? Does that make me a feeder now?

I pictured myself squeezing bags of salmon paste into some large naked chap's mouth. The image made me shudder. Truly the blockchain can lead a man to terrible things.

Worse yet, I didn't even own a funnel.

Go on, have a look for yourself?

He urged.

I nodded. Yes. He was right. I should face my demons.

I logged into https://punks.usehive.com/ to see the very splendid market history that had been added.

There it was, in black and white. One punk sold.

I could scarcely believe my eyes. Then I noticed who had bought it.

Oh, it wasn't a fatty! It was a Balte!

I laughed throatily, like a dog farting into a bag. It looks like I was safe from being a Feeder. To be honest I wasn't even sure I had any idea about how to become a feeder. I wasn't even American.

Then I noticed something that literally made me mount a horse and attempt to lasso a steer.

Hey, look at this. That Whatsup bloke managed to sell one for 2550 HIVE?!

No! Who the blazes would buy one for that much?

Punk Informant typed incredulously.

I scanned the listing.

It was that yabbadabbadoo chap from the Flintstones. He must be mad?

We both nodded at that. Even though we were communicating by text over a huge distance, it seemed the right thing to do.

Oh, by the way. I actually think Whatsup is a lady sort of person?

Typed Punk Informant.

I leaned forward and typed with deliberate intensity.

I will crack the jokes.

I hit send.

We both laughed at that and sent each other many emojis that looked like crying Pac-Men lying on their side.

Outside, the rain began to fall.

_{^{Disclaimer: At least some of this post is true, not a lot mind you but some.}}