sitting in a smoky tavern with nothing but a dream, a debt to a goat, and a half-rotted tulip bulb named “Moonblossom Prime.”

Some guy named Bartholomew leans over and whispers, “Stripe pattern’s rare. Could 100x by spring.”
Boom. I sell my family’s wagon, my cousin’s dowry, and my own sense of caution. 📉

Within a week, the price triples. Then it triples again.
I’m up 1200%, peasants are clapping when I walk through the market, and I’m wearing a cape made entirely of receipt scrolls.

Everyone’s yelling “BUY THE STEM,” and I’m like “I’m not selling until I can trade this bulb for a castle with a moat full of wine.”

Then the market dipped.
Then it dipped harder.
Then it dug its own grave and jumped in. 💀🌷

Now I live in a barrel, rent-free in my own thoughts, but I tell ya — for those three glorious days, I was the tulip king.

And yes, I’d do it again. But this time… I’m going all in on $TULIPORN