I just can't wait to be King

I may not live near a place with hills, because I have never had the pleasure of rolling from one (or does the hill roll off of me? I wonder....), nor did I ever feel the urge to avalanche myself thusly (I avalanche - I avalaunched - I have avalanded).

However, I do possess many potatoes. Therefore, I'm known as the Potato King of my street. Even though this title reigns mostly in my mind, I feel that it still counts and so, I act accordingly. In the event of a nuclear strike, everyone will know my name (and praise it, Hallelujah!) because they will all come to me to buy them potatoes at ridiculously high prices. I admit certain coincidences will need to happen for me to truly become the King (here's the fineprint: the bomb has to land in the vicinity of the nearby supermarket and not damage my pile of potatoes - ideally, no bomb would hit me too, because well, otherwise my potatoes will just be for looting savages who weren't as wise as me to spend 95% of their income on potatoes - that just would NOT be fair (I am working on a system that poisons all my potatoes in the event of my death)).

Everyone has a goal in life. What if mine is to be the Potato King of my street? Like everyone with a goal in life, one has to push certain buttons to reach one's targets. People who want to be sheep shaggers go out and buy some lambchops (just to get the feel of it, you wouldn't want your first sheep to know that it's your first time, do you?), people who want to be dentists go out and start losing their will to live and those who want a nuclear strike to hit their town call a country that has some A-bombs.... 

"Hello, North-Korea, is that you"?
"Yes"
"Can I speak to Kim-Jong Il? Your beloved Leader? It's important!"
(*yells out in palace of Doom:*) "KIMMY!!!!!!! Someone in telephone! Needs you! Stop playing with your trains!"
(*Kimmy-boy comes down and picks up the phone:) "Who speaking?"
"This is Belgium! Tell me, are you ronery tonight?"
"What? We happy with telephone provider!"
"It's not about that, you stupid git! I'm calling to tell you you SUCK monkeyballs!"
(*Kim looks up "monkeyballs" on Google Translate on his dial-up connection (luckily, on a second phone line), so five minutes later:*) "I NOT suck balls of donkey! Only horse! How dare you insult me like that?!"
"You have the intellectual capacity of a lobotomised amoeba with a learning disability and the sex appeal of my morning stool after a night of binge drinking! Fuck you, Kim!" 
(*looks up everything on Google Translate - ten minutes later:*) "Oh, you devil! You will PAY! I send you bombs now! HAHAHAHAHA!"
"Great!"
*hangs up*


As always, the end justifies the means...

Yours,

Your Potato King