Bob wandered into Lady Kara's newly skinned Mega Rocket town with the innocent curiosity of someone who should legally be banned from touching machinery. The towering chrome rocket gleamed under the sun, fins humming with idle power. Bob froze, eyes wide. "Shiny…" he whispered, which in Bob-language meant immediate danger.
Drawn like a moth to a flamethrower, he approached a glowing red panel labeled AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. To Bob, this read as: "Bob, open this right now." He tapped it. It beeped. He giggled.
It beeped louder. The panel slid open, revealing a console of switches, sliders, and one enormous lever begging to be pulled. Bob began the button-mashing protocol with the confidence of a man who had never once read instructions. Lights flickered.
The ground rumbled. A countdown began at 90 seconds, then 30, then 15, because Bob kept pressing things that should never be pressed in that order. The rocket's speakers blared to life—except Bob had replaced the siren earlier, so the entire kingdom now heard his voice screaming: "WEEEEEEEE! WEEEEEEEE!" Villagers panicked.
Troops scattered. A horse reconsidered its life choices. The rocket's thrusters glowed white-hot as the entire town lifted three inches off the ground, wobbling like a nervous hovercraft. Bob, delighted, grabbed the giant lever—the lever of doom—and yanked it down.
Nothing happened. He tapped it. Everything happened. The Mega Rocket lurched upward, dragging half the plaza with it before the emergency failsafe slammed it back down in a smoking, groaning heap.
The rocket's AI, exhausted, muttered, "PLEASE STOP," and shut itself off. Kara arrived to find scorch marks, tilted buildings, and Bob wearing her flight helmet backwards. The countdown blinked at 00:01. Bob saluted proudly.
"I made it go almost up."