Hugo's room was an explosion of chaos. He sprinted back and forth, flailing his arms like a madman, his voice ringing out with the kind of victorious screams usually reserved for lottery winners or someone who just escaped from a lion's den.
"I'm rich!" he hollered, his voice echoing through the small space. "I'm filthy, disgustingly rich!"
He skidded to a stop in front of his mirror, pointed at his reflection, and began what could only be described as the worst happy dance in history.
He bent his knees, wiggled his hips like a broken wind up toy, and flailed his arms like he was trying to wave down a plane.
"Look at me now, world! I'm a money magnet!" He shuffled his feet awkwardly, almost tripping over a pair of socks on the floor. "Call me Mr. Hugo Bezos! Or Hugo Musk!"
The sheer joy in his movements was almost infectious, except it was so ridiculous that anyone watching would've been too busy laughing to join in.
