Minstrel Custard loathed his brother more than anything in the world. Dulcimer Taffy was not even two years old and he had already ruined his life, stealing all of his mothers’ attention and leaving Minstrel to be completely ignored. Oh, if only he could just get rid of that baby once and for all!
 
Actually, he could…
 
Nobody had to know, Minstrel reasoned. He and Dulcimer were home alone and he could easily make up a story. Dulcy ran away, he could tell them. He got into something. It was an accident. But how would he do it?
 
He surveyed the kitchen, looking for something he could use. A knife? Nah. Drown him in the sink? Maybe. But then something caught his eye: a purple bag, perched up on the highest shelf. His moms had told him it was poisonous, but it looked just like candy.
 
Minstrel grinned. He had an idea now. An awful idea. A wonderful, awful idea.
 

 
“Dulcy!”
 
“Minny!” The baby toddled out of his playroom, giggling innocently.
 
Dulcimer put on a display of loving excitement as he shook the bag. “I got candy! Want some?”
 
“Candy! Want candy!”
 
“Sit with me,” Minstrel patted his lap. “It’s yummy!”
 
The baby plopped down on his brother’s lap, instantly grabbing some “candy” from Minstrel’s hand and shoving it in his mouth.
 
“Is that yummy, Dulcy?” Minstrel asked, a sick, twisted grin spreading across his face. “Does that make you feel good?”
 
“Yummy candy!” Dulcimer agreed. But once he reached out for more, he lurched, breaking out into a big, horrible coughing fit.
 
It was all Minstrel could do to stifle his laughter as the baby began to cough and writhe in pain. Anyone else would be horrified, rushing to help him and call 911. But Minstrel was in no hurry. He was glad this was happening. In a twisted, morbid way, he had never felt so gleeful.
 
Everything was going just as he’d planned.