Dr. Toxin

One minuscule drop would be all it took.  Plus a tiny cut, just enough to break the surface.  The poison would enter the victims system, attacking its cells, causing necrosis . . . instant death.  Then it would be a pile of rotting flesh!  That would be all that Dr. Toxin would need for his plan to be successful.  Child's play really!  The hard work had been done:  finding the rare ingredients for the poison, the specialized equipment to manufacture it, the forging of the death-dealing dagger (the skull on it was really a nice touch, he admitted, smiling evilly beneath his plague doctors mask).

The best bit was how his victim would suffer, oh, that was by far the best part!  The nights awake, restless, filled with nightmares, the tears, the sadness.  Dr. Toxin's little twisted heart nearly skipped a beat with the thrill of his victims fast approaching demise.  His horribly cheerful neighbor, Mrs Willaker, would pay for her gloating and incessant cheerfulness.  Her puttering around in her garden, in her flowery dresses, talking nonsensically to her plants, ug . . . the happy singing.  It was really quite revolting, so much so, that the good doctor unconsciously burped sour gas; as his stomach turned.  "Drat this mask!" he swore.  "It's supposed to keep the fumes out, not in!"

But never mind the fumes, tomorrow was V-day: Victory Day!  It had been marked on his calendar in red for months now.  One tiny stab into its bulbous, orange skin was all that it would take.  Mrs Willaker's prized pumpkin would wither and die!  Dr. Toxin's pumpkin would finally win the County Fair's annual pumpkin growing contest!  "Bwaha, ha, ha, haaa!" he laughed manically, until he burped again.  Gagging, Dr. Toxin tried to compose himself, and get control his excitement.

The 'Blue Ribbon' would be his, at last, after all of these countless, long years trying!  But seriously, how did she keep growing the biggest pumpkin season after season?  Could it possibly be the cheerful singing?  Blech, maybe he would have to try singing to his pumpkin next year, and if all else failed . . .there was always poison!