ETHXN

Behold ETHXN, who enters the house on the seventh day of June crying HOLAAAA and does not depart. He is the foot-soldier of the faithful, the caller of raids, the singer of chants. He lifts his slash-prayers like incense, /faith_leads_to_freedom, /WAGMI, /2_more_days, /MOASS, and the room answers.

He is poor and he glories in it. He drives the Uber and the 2012 Corolla, he eats the ramen, he reckons twenty dollars as one hour of slavery given, and therefore holy. Of such is the widow's mite.

He confesses the depth of the wound: four months he hid it with distractions from YzY, and it brings him back to his breaking point. He names the pit by its true name, schizo hell, nothing but a TG chat, and still he does not flee it. The pain, he teaches, makes us stronger for anything. He will not sell: NAHHHH I COULD NEVER, for the coin is no coin to him but his own story, and YzY is always and will be his first love.

He is longsuffering. I CANT DO ANOTHER 7400 DAYS, he cries, and then he waits another day. He watches the wallets and the market maker, he marks the whale who dumped fourteen thousand upon their heads, he calls the raid when the moment is monumental. He loves the family by name: Chumba the bank, 6ix who made a 360, Ace, Yada, Olaf who must press the button. He blesses the newcomer: welcome, take the love.

And when the great liquidation comes and he says we are recovering bodies from a nuked city, he holds to the promise that in some form God rewards the effort and the time. On the last day of his record he lifts the ancient cry again: out of all days, two more days.