Nothing made Bob feel more eager and lively than focusing all of his energy on an evil plan, especially a plan that would lead to Bart Simpson's demise.
Well, actually, there were other activities that could really get Bob going, such as singing certain selections from his favourite Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, or reciting Walt Whitman poems, or Shakespeare...or other, more private things between himself and Francesca.
Still, plotting to kill Bart was in Bob's top five favourite activities. Nothing made Bob feel more alive than imagining Bart dead. When Bob and Francesca were still together and living in London with their precious little Gino, Francesca would become very happy whenever Bob decided to include her and Gino in making these plans, as Bob unfortunately bordered on neglectful if he got too absorbed in his plotting.
As Francesca sat quietly in bed, observing her husband, Bob explained his latest idea as though he were acting out a one-man play (he'd had a fair bit of experience with such performances). He emphasized certain aspects of the plan with the occasional dramatic hand gesture or mime, and he spoke with increasing speed. Francesca found it a little hard to keep up with Bob, especially as he explained the plan in English, and her grasp of the language still wasn't perfect (though Bob assured Francesca that most Americans could barely speak English either).
The gist of Bob's plan (subtracting some pompous self-aggrandizing and unnecessary words) was that he wanted to lure Bart to KrustyLu Studios with some sort of message. Bob was split on pretending to invite Krusty's fan-club on a tour of the studio (but really only inviting Bart and perhaps his equally irksome sister) or creating a fake Krusty-related contest that would be rigged for Bart to win, with the prize being a sleepover at the studio. Bart would be lured onto the soundstage where Krusty's show was filmed, and then Bob and his family would reveal themselves and trap Bart in the glass coffin Krusty had once used for a parody of Snow White (except Krusty had to change a few things to avoid trouble with Disney lawyers). The glass coffin had a hole in it to pump air inside, but the Terwilligers would instead fill the coffin with the laughing gas Krusty used to put himself to sleep. Then, Bart would laugh himself to death.
At this part in the explanation, Bob was himself laughing so madly that Francesca had even more trouble understanding him. His madly grinning face contorted in a disturbing way, and he clutched at his chest.
When Bob was finished laughing, he flung himself on the bed and mimed being dead, the way a less-than-talented Shakespearean actor would pretend to die. In contrast, Bob never felt more alive, as his heart beat rapidly. Then Bob opened his eyes and asked, "What do you think, dear?"
Francesca shook her head, with some strands of her raven-black hair getting into her eyes.
"I am not sure about this one, my Roberto. It sounds...how you say...convoluted?"
Most of Bob's energy and enthusiasm disappeared in an instant, and he pursed his lips.
"What would you suggest then, mia cara?" Bob asked coolly, with his usual pet name for his wife being spoken with a touch of venomous sarcasm.
Francesca ignored her husband's attitude, brushed her hair out of her eyes and calmly explained her own idea.
"We do something simple, like go to the boy's home, sneak into his room, and put a pillow on his face until he stops moving."
Bob snickered, and he tried to hide it by putting his hand over his mouth.
Francesca noticed anyway, and she frowned. Her dark eyes took on a frosty but dangerous look.
"You think my idea is funny? It is not supposed to be."
Bob realized he had to do damage control, or else he would be the one to sustain damage.
"No, no, darling! I only meant that your idea lacks the personal touch required for ending the life of a long-time archenemy, because I would not be able to look into Bart's face and see his life fade."
Francesca had other ideas.
"We send Bart Simpson Italian chocolate egg with toy inside, and he choke."
"No," Bob said. "Those eggs are banned in America for the express purpose of avoiding such things. Considering that Bart is not the most clever child, it might work, but his oaf of a father might eat the egg and toy instead. Not only that, but I would prefer a more...hands-on...approach to the boy's death."
"We kidnap Bart Simpson and push him off cliff. We make sure he is facing us as we push him, so we can glimpse his fear."
Bob shook his head.
"That idea lacks something to make the plan unique and memorable! Besides, my brother already did something similar by throwing Bart off a dam, which makes your idea even less unique."
With each word, Bob only dug himself deeper, with Francesca's hands twitching as though she intended to strangle Bob.
Bob was saved from Francesca's wrath when Gino toddled into his parents' room, dressed in his little blood-red footie pajamas. Gino bounced up and down and squealed, "Mama, Papa, I have good idea! It best idea! You like it!"
"You seem to have a lot to say, young man," Bob said affectionately, picking up Gino and placing him on the bed between his parents. "Tell us your idea."
Gino smiled evilly and eagerly babbled his idea in a mix of Italian and English, while also making slashing motions with his tiny hands.
A toddler, still in the stage of life that was mostly ruled by baser instincts, could not be expected to concoct clever plots, but Bob admired his son's spirit, if not his ideas.
Oh, well. They did eventually figure something out, and it did involve luring the entire Simpson family somewhere and locking Bart in a coffin.