The next morning, the tent smelled like a full cycle of bull and bear market had just taken place inside. Nigel woke up first and immediately saw Kevin proudly sitting in the corner, pulling on a brand new clean T-shirt.
“Hold up!” Nigel roared, jumping up so fast he smashed his head on the tent ceiling. “What the hell is that on you?!”
On Kevin’s T-shirt, in big yellow letters, it said: «DOGECOIN RULES THE WORLD 🌕🐶»
Kevin adjusted the collar with a smug face and said:
“Bro, I found it yesterday near the Tower Bridge dumpster. It’s almost clean! Only smells a little like beer and hope. Doge rules, Nigel! This is our reversal play!”
Nigel turned red with rage (or maybe from lack of oxygen):
“Are you serious?! We’ve been HODLing for five years, living on a solar panel and expired cabbage, and you put on this betrayal?! Dogecoin rules the world?! It only rules your empty head, you idiot! Take that shit off before I throw you and your socks into the Thames!”
Kevin hugged himself protectively:
“I’m not taking it off! This is my motivation! You’re just jealous because all you have is that old HODL hoodie that smells worse than my socks!”
“Jealous?!” Nigel grabbed his holey glove and threw it at Kevin. “I’ll jealous-choke you right now! We’re rotting together under this bridge, and you decided to become a Doge evangelist in a clean T-shirt?! This is betrayal on the level of 2022!”
They started shoving each other in the tiny tent like two degens fighting over a margin call. Kevin’s stinky socks swung above their heads, dripping even harder. Green clouds of stench swirled around the tent like a new Solana token launch.
But in the evening, everything changed.
Three kind-hearted people in clean jackets approached the bridge. They had read Nigel’s story on Publish0x. One of them held up his phone showing a screenshot of the article “Crypto Hobo Under the Bridge: The Real Bull Run.”
“Are you Nigel?” one asked quietly. “We read it… and we had to come. Here, take this. Warm clothes, a jacket, socks without holes… and some money. £1,200. You deserve it.”
They handed over a huge bag and an envelope full of cash. Nigel stood frozen with his mouth open. Even Kevin went silent for the first time all day and took off his Doge T-shirt (out of shame).
“Thank you…” Nigel muttered, his voice shaking. “But… I can’t keep this for myself.”
He looked at the bag, then at the Thames, then at his holey socks and said in a super cringy heroic tone:
“I’d rather invest this money in children. Because children grow up to become great people. And from us… only big holes in our socks and even bigger holes in our portfolios grew. Bitcoin keeps falling, but kids don’t. Kids are the only asset that never does -99%.”
He took all £1,200 and, still wearing his holey gloves, walked straight to the nearest children’s orphanage. Kevin trailed behind like a loyal (but smelly) dog.
When Nigel handed the money to the caregiver, he added another layer of cringe:
“Tell the kids this is from two crypto hobos under the bridge. And that even if Bitcoin falls to zero, they can still become bigger than we ever were.”
The caregiver started crying. Kevin cried too (mostly because of the smell of his own socks, which he was carrying in his hands).
Meanwhile, Bitcoin dropped another 4%. The red candle on the chart lying on the ground near the tent was so long it could have become a new bridge support.
They returned to the tent with no money, but with warm socks (which Nigel immediately gave to Kevin because “kids are more important”).
Kevin quietly put his Doge T-shirt back on and whispered:
“Bro… you’re a real legend. Even when everything is dumping — you’re still HODLing faith in children.”
Nigel sighed, lay down on his sleeping bag and stared at the holey tent ceiling:
“Yeah… now let’s sleep. And don’t fart tonight. Because if you do another bull run — I’ll definitely strangle you with that same T-shirt.”
And so they fell asleep under the bridge, where Bitcoin kept falling, the socks kept stinking, and the only green candle in their lives came from those three kind strangers.
