And so it came to pass that Monk returned to the Frontroom after many long hours locked away in his own personally dungeon. Groaning in slight pain and frustration he curled his eyes around the room, noticing...spam... So much spam! Screaming in terror Monk turned to run, only to trip on a drunken spammer and falling with an amazing speed to the floor.

"+1! +1! omg +1!!" shouted the spammer. Monk lay motionless, blinking in astonishment he didn't see that person there. With a heavy hearted sigh he found his feet again and stood silently. Yet now was the time for vengeance on the spammer who tripped him, making him look like a fool. Yes it was the spammers fault.. yeah that's it! His hand strayed to his side for his mod stick... but alas! It had been taken away. a wave of surprise and horror took the Assistant mod before he flopped to the ground. Whimpering in defeat.

"I want my moddy," he sniffled. "so much spam...". His voice flared with anger as the Monk cried aloud "So much spam!"

An empty bottle flew from the darkness, cutting a path though the wind and finding a place on the Monk's head. Shattering upon impact and knocking him cold. There, hidden in the shadows BKS sat waiting, his time was close. Yet that damn Monk's rambling had thrown off his thoughts about how he'd close the topic both cleverly and effectively...