GI Joe

I smile sweetly at the four-year-old.

"Nobody will ever find it. Not your mommy, not your daddy, not your granny or your sister or your doggy. Not the police. Certainly not you. Even I won't be able to find it." Unable to control myself, I let out a howl of mirth.

The child's lower lip quivers, his eyes welling up with tears. He glances at the duckweed-filled pond. A frog croaks.

"Why?" he sobs, dripping tears on everything.

"Your little brother was just too annoying, I'm afraid. I gave him a chance, really I did."

The boy sniffles, wiping his snot-covered pug-nose on his ratty sweater. He looks puzzled.

"My brother? Who cares about him? He was holding my GI Joe. I just got GI Joe for Ch-Chr-Chris-Christmas!" His face crumples and a new wave of tears stream down his face.

I succeeded in my quest. I made that boy miserable all right.

But I probably could have avoided the life sentence that was handed to me after they easily found the little boy at the bottom of the pond.

My only consolation is that to this day, the GI Joe hasn't been found.

The now forty-year-old man remains miserable.