Technically, they did all of it legally. Everyone was moved far enough away that they weren’t in any danger. Businesses and workers and the population of the town were given fair amounts of money for their trouble—so, really, it didn’t feel like the gleeful act of mischief that Herbert wanted it to be.
But they did give him a rather large red button to push, so there was that at least.
And, on a balmy morning, after a light breakfast of ostrich eggs and bacon made from an endangered boar, the richest man alive by a wide margin watched as concentrated explosions wiped out every single building that held an establishment he despised. The vape shops, the hookah lounges, the coffee shops that didn’t offer sugary confections, the speaker store where he’d once hurt his ears because of a loud sub-woofer: they all went up in flames and shrapnel.
And Hebert breathed a sigh of relief. Though he did already begin to wonder what he was going to do about all these websites making fun of him. Surely there was a nice big red button for them, too.
Special thanks to: Melissa Potter
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