“TEAR THE WHOLE THING DOWN!” Conor roared,
and the monster roared in return and pounded at the remaining walls, knocking them to the ground.
Conor rushed in to help, picking up a fallen branch and smashing through the windows that hadn’t already been broken.
He was yelling as he did it, so loud he couldn’t hear himself think,
disappearing into the frenzy of destruction, just mindlessly smashing and smashing and smashing.
The monster was right. It was very satisfying.
Conor screamed until he was hoarse, smashed until his arms were sore, roared until he was nearly falling down with exhaustion.
When he finally stopped, he found the monster watching him quietly from outside the wreckage.
Conor panted and leaned on the branch to keep himself balanced. Now that, said the monster, is how destruction is properly done.
And suddenly they were back in Conor’s grandma’s sitting room. Conor saw that he had destroyed almost every inch of it.
DESTRUCTION
The settee was shattered into pieces beyond counting. Every wooden leg was broken, the upholstery ripped to shreds,
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