Rocketpaw’s Last Meme
In the remote labyrinths of the Cryptonic Sphere—a planet that’s really just a sequence of digits orbiting an idea—Sultan Rocketpaw preps for launch. A mystic hound with whiskers as precise as Fibonacci's ratios, he straps into his rocket, a ship that’s more poem than vessel, etched in binary glyphs. The hull bears his mantra: “Hodl, Woof, Moon.”
Sultan’s journey is guided by an ancient prophecy, barked under a full moon, but his destiny holds an unavoidable face-off. Soon, he encounters Bananas Cosmos, the infamous space ape in a silver suit who, legend has it, invented candlestick charts to confuse the masses. Bananas doesn’t fly in a ship—he floats in a bubble of pure speculation, expanding with each market fluctuation. His laughter echoes through the void like a chart in freefall, mocking all traders who ever thought they could control anything.
The prophecy says these two cosmic rivals must meet at the Market of the Nine Mysteries, a constellation where price charts take form and candlesticks bark. Here, the Society of the Great Howl flickers into view: a clandestine pack of dogs in orange suits and shades, unmoving and waiting, as if a sacred meme has yet to be posted. These dogs aren’t just dogs; they see the flow, hear the ticks, and know each byte as a secret.
Sultan and Bananas collide, trading cosmic memes like ancient runes, each blow a coded symbol, each dodge an insider nod. Their clash shakes the market’s very foundations, and graphs everywhere fluctuate wildly. In the midst of this cosmic chaos, a third observer appears: Toady McCufflink, a frog in a spotless white suit, puffing on a cigar the size of a galaxy. Toady’s unflappable gaze blinks in sync with Bitcoin’s swings. Watching the battle with casual interest, his pupils reflect the endless streams of dollars and dogecoins, as if he himself were a living, breathing meme of universal greed.
But the cosmos has more surprises. Pigborg Jones arrives like a glitch in the universe, a transhuman pig with metal parts, decked in neon workout gear. He’s neither ally nor foe, only hungry for the next bull run. Each grunt from Pigborg’s robotic maw is a soundbite from the market’s subconscious, his laugh a pulse of trading alerts and high-voltage motors.
With the universe reaching critical meme mass, a figure materializes: A-Kira 404, the girl in the yellow jacket. Her eyes are windows to nowhere—no fear, no desire, just a calculated indifference, as if she’s witnessed the world and found it lacking. As the music swells, she unsheathes an impossible weapon, something that fires distilled meme energy capable of liquidating the most stoic trader.
At this cosmic fever pitch, the Society of the Great Howl intervenes. Following the howl of Oracle Poodle, a golden flagship bursts from a black hole, leading an armada of cosmic hounds in formation. The ensuing space battle is the last great ritual of the cryptomarkets, an orgy of fractals, blockchain explosions, and streams of flashing cryptos scattered like galactic confetti. Across the galaxy, traders feel their portfolios buckle and surge as the interstellar clash unfolds.
As in all things market-related, the chaos subsides. In the stillness, banknotes drift in an ethereal void, and from their midst emerges a tree—a cosmic bonsai that looms impossibly large, in its all-time high, basking in the rarefied air of record heights. Beneath its branches, Sultan Rocketpaw sits in his ship, surveying the tree and the quietude, as if beholding the beauty of a meme fulfilled.
It’s clear this isn’t a story for everyone... But for those who know, it’s everything.
5555 $bonsai](https://hey.xyz/search?q=%24bonsai\&src=link_click\&type=pubs)) | 11 editions | 11% referral