THE BANK OF PALADIN IS CLOSED
Or: How to Get Exactly What You Asked For and Still Be Surprised
By Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand
There is a peculiar species of creature roaming the digital wilderness.
It looks human. It talks human. It occasionally sends photographs of questionable authenticity. But beneath that charming exterior lurks a creature of extraordinary appetite.
The Hunger Mimic.
Unlike traditional mimics, which disguise themselves as treasure chests to eat unsuspecting adventurers, the Hunger Mimic disguises itself as a potential romantic interest to eat your fucking paycheck.
Its natural habitat includes dating applications, private messages, and anywhere a lonely bastard might have twenty dollars and a momentary lapse in judgment.
Its mating call?
"Heyyyyy, I'm hungry. 🥺"
Well, congratulations, sweetheart. So is half the planet.
I AM NOT THE DEPARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE
Understand something.
I am not opposed to generosity.
If I had money falling out of my ass like a malfunctioning casino slot machine, I would happily buy someone breakfast, lunch, or dinner.
Hell, I might even throw in dessert.
But here's the catch.
You have to be a little more appealing than pig feces.
I realize this is an extraordinarily high standard in the modern dating economy, where basic courtesy apparently requires a premium subscription.
But I remain optimistic.
Perhaps one day I will encounter someone who understands the revolutionary concept of having a conversation without immediately presenting an invoice.
Until then, the Bank of Paladin remains closed.
Not permanently.
Just to assholes.
THE MAGICAL WORD IS NO
One of the great mysteries of human civilization is how a two-letter word can cause such catastrophic system failure.
"No."
That's it.
Two letters.
One syllable.
Yet somehow, when spoken to certain individuals, it produces a reaction normally associated with telling a medieval king that his royal trousers are full of bees.
"But I'm hungry!"
"I'm broke."
"But I haven't eaten!"
"Neither has my checking account."
"Can't you just send me twenty dollars?"
"No."
"Wow. You must not care about me."
And there it is.
The emotional invoice.
Apparently, affection is now measured in chicken nuggets, and refusing to purchase a stranger's lunch constitutes a violation of the Geneva Conventions.
Listen, you magnificent walking restaurant bill.
My inability or unwillingness to finance your digestive system is not a referendum on your worth as a human being.
It's a financial decision.
You may disagree with it.
You may dislike it.
You may even dramatically clutch your pearls.
But the answer remains no.
BLOCK ME, THEN!
Ah, yes.
The ultimate weapon.
The nuclear option.
The emotional equivalent of pulling the fire alarm because someone wouldn't buy you a cheeseburger.
"THEN BLOCK ME!"
Very well.
Click.
Blocked.
No dramatic farewell.
No seventeen-paragraph apology.
No desperate negotiations conducted beneath a thunderstorm while violins scream in the distance.
Just one finger, one button, and the peaceful sound of absolutely fucking nothing.
Somewhere, perhaps, a surprised Pikachu has materialized.
Perhaps not.
Maybe the creature genuinely wanted to be blocked.
Maybe it expected resistance.
Maybe it simply moved on to another unsuspecting adventurer carrying a slightly healthier debit card.
I neither know nor particularly care.
You requested a service. The service was rendered.
Customer satisfaction: 10/10.
BUT WHAT IF I UNBLOCK THEM?
Now, dear reader, I must confess something.
Sometimes the Paladin gets curious.
He wanders back to the dungeon, unlocks the door, and peers inside.
"Hello? Anybody home?"
Silence.
Not a single squeak from the treasure chest.
And that's fine.
Because contrary to what the internet's legion of amateur relationship philosophers might suggest, curiosity is not weakness.
Sometimes you wonder whether someone might return for an actual conversation.
Maybe you enjoyed their jokes.
Maybe they seemed interesting before their personality transformed into a DoorDash checkout screen.
Maybe you just wanted to see whether the little bastard was still there.
There is no shame in that.
But reopening the door does not mean reopening the treasury.
You can be willing to talk without being willing to pay.
You can forgive an awkward exchange without forgetting why it happened.
And you can miss someone's company without missing their bullshit.
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN GENEROSITY AND EXTORTION WITH EMOJIS
Here's the part people keep misunderstanding.
I don't hate helping people.
I hate being treated like a resource to be harvested.
If someone genuinely needs help, asks respectfully, and accepts whatever answer I give, there's no problem.
Hell, if my circumstances were different, I might happily help.
But if you hear that I'm unemployed, financially struggling, and trying to keep my own head above water, and your immediate response is to continue shaking your imaginary collection plate beneath my nose?
Congratulations.
You've failed the pig-feces test.
And that's a spectacular achievement.
Because the bar was already underground.
You somehow brought a shovel.
MR. JERRY'S UNSOLICITED ADVICE
Never confuse generosity with obligation.
Never confuse persistence with affection.
And never confuse someone's refusal to finance your lunch with evidence that they don't care.
A decent person can accept a no.
A worthwhile companion can enjoy your company without expecting compensation.
And someone who only sticks around while you're spending money isn't necessarily enjoying your company.
They may simply be enjoying your spending.
As for the Paladin?
He remains Lawful Neutral.
Aggressively boring.
Financially cautious.
Occasionally curious.
And perfectly willing to press the block button when instructed.
An illusion is entertainment. Deception designed to empty your wallet is bullshit.
And finally, to every Hunger Mimic wandering the internet in search of its next complimentary breakfast:
May your refrigerator be full.
May your manners improve.
And may you someday discover that the person on the other side of the screen is a human being, not a fucking vending machine.
Until then—
THE BANK OF PALADIN IS CLOSED.
Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand
Professional Raccoon. Amateur Philosopher. Unlicensed Financial Bouncer.
P.S. Gerald the Cactus has reviewed this article and wishes to clarify that he, too, requires consent before anyone attempts to involve him in their financial disputes.