Nobody in that small town ever respected Harry. But all that changed with a simple ingredient.
No one ever liked Harry when he was a little fat kid on the playground, or when he was an even fatter kid in high school. They certainly did not when he dropped out to go to culinary school. No one ever would've believed you if you told them that they would worship him one day.
No one knows where Harry went for a few years. But when he returned, he opened up a diner right in the center of town. Within a year, it was the only thing people talked about. Everyone ate there. Ask anyone, and they would tell you why-
"Harry's Diner has the best damn food. Simple as that!"
It really was. People loved it. Ate it by the pound. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Harry's, Harry's and Harry's. It became an obsession. Some people even started setting up camps outside, just so they could be first in line for breakfast. Harry's got so popular that he put the supermarket out of business. The other restaurants closed soon after. No one was too bothered by that. Everyone who worked at those places just started eating at Harry's.
That was only the beginning. People loved that food so much, they would do anything for Harry. One woman traded her firstborn child for a week of free meals. Harry made another man kill his best friend, just because he could. It wasn't long before Harry had a whole army that would do anything. Just for a taste of what he would cook up next.
Nowadays, there's not much left of that town. Other than Harry's, of course. All of the homes are worn and faded. The grass grows unchecked, and trash sits out at the curb. People wander the streets in a haze, waiting for their next meal. The town even gave Harry access to their tornado siren. Its wailing song signals the next feast.
At night, the whole ruin of that town basks in the neon light from the diner's sign. Harry's name proudly looks down over its subjects. A whole kingdom to call his own.
He deserved it. After all, he really did have the best damn food. Simple as that. But it wasn't because of salt, pepper, or paprika. Not because of the cheese or the butter, either. Not even because of the factory frozen meat he used.
It was the heroin he laced it with.
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