[ WP ] Villages are laid to rubble and countless lives are ruined ... all over a bag of chips

Fidel Castro's hand hovered over the red button, once encased inside a plastic cover to prevent any `` accidental'' attacks but now wide open to all deadly possibilities at the hands of Cuba's dictator. At this rate an attack was imminent, as one lone Cuban Missle Intern searched desperately for the one thing that could alter the tides of humanity. 
 
 `` I swear to fucking God, if I do n't get a bag of potato chips I'm going to blow something up.'' 
 
 His staff of able-bodied assistants stood idly by, beads of sweat dripping from just below the rim of their green military caps. 
 
 `` Senor,'' said one of the assistants, `` We have sent an intern out to find you potato chips. I assure you there is no need for this.'' 
 
 Castro eyed up his assistant, not recalling a single name as he scanned the young man facial features. 
 
 `` I'm the one in charge, I say what is needed and what is not.'' 
 
 The assistant took a step back to realign himself with his cohorts, lucky to be alive for even making a mere suggestion. If anything the sheer fact that Castro's trigger hand hovered over the nuclear launch button may have been the only thing that saved him from immediate death. Not that he could n't have the same result in a few minutes if that dumb shit Pedro failed to find potato chips. 
 
 An eerie silence hung over the room, broken only by the heavy breathing of Castro as he tried with no avail to unfuck his Chi. 
 
 `` You know, I do nice things, do I not?'' he asked no one in particular. `` I host fiestas, I partake in breakdancing competitions, I even clothe the homeless seconds after I take everything they have. Why must I look like the bad guy?'' 
 
 With each man in attendance afraid to answer, the room remained silent. 
 
 `` And now, here I am, hovering my hand over a big red button that could wipe out countless villages in Russia. Or South America. Or America. I have n't even decided on a target yet.'' 
 
 `` Sir,'' one man spoke up. `` No one has done anything to deserve. None of those countries has done a thing to us, or you for that matter. Think of the lives lost. Think of the children.'' 
 
 `` Children? CHILDREN?'' 
 
 `` Oh shit,'' whispered one of the assistants. 
 
 `` Children are the sole reason for my being here, right now, at this given time. Have you ever tried to get a minute of sleep in a house filled to the brim with screaming children? And then, when you ca n't sleep, find solace in something as simple as a bag of potato chips, only to find the diablos have eaten the entire lot, down to the very last one? HAVE YOU?!'' 
 
 `` No senor, I have not.'' 
 
 Castro took a deep breath. `` It's very simple,'' he sighed. `` Potato chips for me, no bomb is dropped. Muy simple.'' 
 
 Off in the distance the sound of slapping feet pounding the pavement drew closer. 
 
 `` It's Pedro!'' screamed one of the assistants, equal part relieved and surprised that the dumbest of the crew managed to find a bag of potato chips in the middle of Guantanamo Bay. 
 
 Castro breathed a noticeable sigh of relief and began to slide his hand away from the red nuclear button. 
 
 `` Pedro is here,'' panted Pedro. At that moment it was obvious to all in the room that he had once again dressed himself that morning, evident by the pants on his head, shirt around his waist, socks on his hands and scuba diving flippers on his feet. 
 
 `` Give them here!'' screamed Castro, as he snatched the bag out of Pedro's hands and returned to his hovering stance over the nuclear button. 
 
 `` See?'' he said, breaking the tension with a small laugh. `` Is OK now. Huh?'' 
 
 The bag of chips crinkled under his grip as he tore open the top. 
 
 `` There is nothing to be worried about. Is OK. IS OK MY FRIENDS!'' 
 
 He casually reached into the bag for his first chip. Instantly the look of anger returned to his face, the redness in his cheeks matched only by the red button. Before anyone in the room could notice the error of Pedro's ways, it was already too late. 
 
 `` FUCKING RUFFLES!'' he screamed, tossing the bag aside and slamming both hands down on the button.
