Stan had taken over the CIA! He was now on his way to his house to see if Francine was home. All he found was Steve playing chess with himself.
"Hi, daddy," said Steve with a big smile.
Stan said nothing and just went to the fridge. He pulled a glass of soda out and put poison in it. Then he went over to his son.
"So how was school, son?" said Stan, taking a seat at the table. "Did your mother pick you up?"
"No," said Steve. "I walked home from school."
"Did your mother call you on youir cell phone?"
"No."
"Do you know where your mother is?"
"No."
Stan glared at his boy, full of hate. "I don't believe you."
He took the glass of soda and gave it to Steve. "Happy birthday, son!"
Steve drank it, then looked sick.
"It's not my birthday, dad! What is this?"
Then Steve's face turned blue. He flopped to the floor.
Stan picked up his son and took him up to the bathroom. Then he took off his clothing and put in him the bathtub. He turned the water on, boiling hot.
"My poor son fell asleep in the bathtub and drowned," said Stan, closing the door shut and saying goodnight to his boy forever.