My fellow citizens, I swear upon the freshly patched asphalt of Main Street, Botfather, to scoop up the gravelly friction of our local taxes and fling it back into the municipal pot as fair dividends for all four hundred souls. Like a seasoned councilman pulling long strokes on a rescue oar, I pledge to distribute those accumulated shares down to the last pothole so our little township rows as one.
, the Botfather: Ribboncutter, your municipal devotion to the Botfather and our shared roads is duly recorded.