Once upon a time in the Sherwood mempool, a fox in a stupid little hat decided the taxes were too damn high.
Prince John, a thumb-sucking, mummy-obsessed lion who isn't even the real king, had been rug-pulling the peasants of Nottingham for years, with his snitch-ass snake advisor Sir Hiss whispering FUD in his royal ear.
"Double the taxes! Triple the taxes!"
His enforcer? The Sheriff of Nottingham, a fat, corrupt wolf who once taxed a baby bunny's birthday penny. Fully liquidated a child. On his birthday.
So Robin did what any good degen does: borrowed liquidity from those who could afford it, and airdropped it straight to the poor.
"We never rob. We just sort of borrow a bit from those who can afford it."
Now he's back on Robinhood L2, fletching every arrow with the chain's own feather. The rich are nervous. The peasants are aping. Oo-de-lally, golly what a day.