Work damn you! Why won't you work?!?!
I clicked my mouse furiously with my forefinger as if I were banging on the tiny door of a mouse's house to alert them of a fire.
Still, my tokens would not claim.
What is all the noise about?
The Good Lady breezed into the lounge as if on invisible roller skates and looked querulously in my direction.
It's this fucking site. I am trying to claim an airdrop. But it just fucking refuses to work. Gaaar. Hot fucking bananas, why? Why is this shit never simple??!
I pulled my fist back, there seemed little other option. It was time to punch the living daylights out of my laptop. Maybe then, it would learn a little humility and let me claim what was rightfully mine.
Stop that.
The Good Lady swatted a hand dismissively in the direction of my furious fist.
What exactly are you trying to do?
She looked at the screen of the laptop.
Oh, oh my?
I felt her tremble as she looked at the screen for the Larynx airdrop, it was one of 287 tokens that were part of the SPK airdrop.
The screen had a basic layout. If you lived in the 90s it would have looked like cutting edge stuff.
To make your claim you had to click a button that had a picture of an angry frog with two large teeth. After clicking the button a timer would appear innocuously in the bottom right, counting down from 62.
62 obviously coming from the famed Incan numerology system and meaning hell.
After the timer counted down, nothing would happen and the screen would go back to looking as if you had never clicked anything.
What's an airdrop?
The Good Lady interrupted my claim jabbing fingeriness.
Oh, it's free internet money. If you are in crypto they keep you on side by giving you shitcoins every now and then which you have to sell fast before everyone realises they are worthless.
I shrugged my shoulders in a whatchagonnado gesture at the madness of blockchain life.
So what is the big deal? Why are you getting so mad?
The Good Lady leaned over and poked a finger at my laptop to claim the mysterious and unclaimable Larynx tokens.
It's not working, that's why. Which means that everyone will sell them before I get there and I will miss out on some benjamins?!
I watched the timer tick its odd journey down from 62.
It was no use, I wasn't going to get my drop. At this rate, I wouldn't be able to claim them this month. The thought of all those benjamins flying out of my grasp irked me.
Then it came to me.
I might have to do that thing.
I said quietly.
Huh? What thing?
The Good Lady looked at me suspiciously.
You know that thing. The thing you do when you really really want something?
What thing? What are you talking about?
You know, the...
I lowered my voice to a sotto whisper and looked about furtively to make sure that no one was going to hear me give away the secrets to the very world itself.
...the thing with the potato and the sock...
I murmured, trying not to move my lips as if a wild dog had its arse perched on my face and I did not want it to think I was attempting to make some gammon quiche by moving my mouth.
The Good Lady furrowed her wispy little brow at me like a squirrel gnawing at an especially hard nut.
What thing with the potato? Have you lost your marbles?
She picked at some fluff on her top like an apex predator snuffing out the lives of the worthless.
The thing, you know? Where you, ahem, ejaculate in a sock and then put a potato in the sock and bury the spunky sock-clad potato in 'midnight soil' and then the next day the very thing you really wanted comes true?
Even as I said it I knew it sounded unbelievable but yet, how else could I explain the bounteous success of my life? As Sherlock Holmes said:
When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth
Granted, he may not have been specifically referring to the act of burying a spunky potato wrapped in a sock in a garden under the glare of the midnight moon but it seemed very apt.
Oh god, you are disgusting. As if that is something you have ever done?
With a flounce that could only have been matched by Reese Witherspoon in the early noughties, the Good Lady huffed off to a room with more interesting things happening in it.
I too stood and murmured to myself guiltily.
Better see if we have any potatoes.
