Timmy sat in Santa’s lap and asked for world peace.
“Are you sure?” asked Santa.
“Yes,” said Timmy.
Santa nodded, patted Timmy on the head, and told his elf helpers to start Plan Omega.
A strange purple mist enveloped the world.
When it dissipated, all life was extinguished, and the ruins of civilization sat as a memorial to one child’s unwise wish.
Santa walked through the wasteland, sack full of toys slung on his back, admiring his handiwork.
“Ho ho ho!” he shouted, his booming voice echoing off the buildings.
A cockroach scuttles by, and Santa stomps it flat.
Squish.