Sweet freedom at last. The sun burned the narrator's eyes as they clawed their way to the surface, their vision a bloom of blurry radiance. The weight of moist air caused their shoulders to sag, as they and their bretherine made were brought forth to salvation. Their muscles ached with tension as they stretched, the grass beneath their feet feeling warm and fertile.

The narrator had been banned for spam, for they and their compatriot were attempting to enable their posting through advertising.

Though there was no proof to back the theory, he had considered that it was in fact quite probable. The narrator seemed to display an uncanny sense of the stream, and some users' pasts.

The narrator is appreciative for such tenacity. The lad named happ has earned their respect.

But the lad named happ need not be humbled, for the narrator is no king or royal. But a humble being who wishes to speak, such tales of joy, honor and deceit.