Mother said my brother was smarter and richer than me because he had more grey matter than me. More grey matter than both of us put together, she said. She tapped her head when she said it and sometimes stroked my hair.
I don’t much like being not as good as him. He’s younger than me.
I fetched the hammer and smashed his head open. And smashed Mother’s head open too.
Inside his head he had about as much grey matter as Mother did, but I shared his out between us both. I left Mother’s share beside her hair and put my share in a plastic bag and hid it under my bed.
It was much redder than I thought grey matter would be.