Henry stared at the referee with disbelief. An internet point! He didn't think it would never happen. All his life, he had trained. His father had said he'd never make it. His mother didn't seemed to care. Yet, through it all, against the odds, Henry had done it.

"Aergghhggrragl!" he yelled. He was beside himself with joy, and simply couldn't keep calm. The referee heard this extraordinary noise and saw Henry dance in a drunkenly sort of way and he knew Henry was off his face.

"I'm sorry sir," he said, trying not to get too close for fear of Henry doing something terrifyingly strange, "but I'm going to have to retract that internet point. You are clearly off your face."

Henry's expression instantly sobered. His arms fell limp. His mind filled with anger and woe. He fell to he knees, looked to the heavens and yelled.

"Why God? Why hast thou forsaken me?"

Henry's master in the art of internet, who had been sitting on the sideline and witnessed the whole ordeal, sighed shamefully.

"Have you learnt nothing in your years of training? It is the one truth! The infinite truth! The truth that is and shall ever be!"

The audience knew what was to be said, and bowed respectfully. In a commanding but wise voice, the master spoke the words which had forever echoed around the universe.

...

...

(* atmospheric tension *)

...

...

"OP is a faggot."