"Auntie, what if I told you I wanted to kill you?"

"You just eat your broccoli, young man. And don't talk with your mouth full!"

Clive was still waiting for the beautiful black pebble he had swallowed the day before to finally come out of his system. He was worried that, having eaten it, it might kill him, but he was even more afraid of telling his caregivers about the incident. The chubby boy rubbed his belly and kicked his legs, trying to shake the thing out, but it didn't budge. Giving up, Clive got off the potty and trudged his way sadly back to the playroom.

Jumping on the trampoline, playing races with the toy wagons, and leading little soldiers into battle took his mind off his concerns. The evening flew by without incident. He was already enjoying his seventh dream of the night when the sudden screaming of women echoing through the house awakened him.

"It's all ruined!" shrieked one of the nannies.

"Just imagine: who would build a guillotine for a teddy bear!?" screeched another.

"And, oh, look, the toy soldiers, all melted on the candle!" a third nanny howled.

"All the dolls' hands have been torn off, all the toy wagons smashed! And then there's..."

The commotion and cries went on and on, but Clive, wrapped up in his cozy cot, simply smiled a dreamy smile and gazed at the ceiling. He saw nothing to worry about, and felt happy as a bunny in his bed.

The culprit of the havoc in the playroom was never found, and by morning, an uneasy quiet had fallen upon the house. But Clive couldn't sleep. To occupy himself, the boy decided to surprise his carers by preparing breakfast for everyone. What a generous little fellow he was! He put on an apron, rolled up his sleeves, and set to work. Some time later, having finished his cooking and thoroughly satisfied with the results, Clive ran outside to play. But a minute later...

"Good Lord! Who hung plucked knoggs all over the walls and poured tomato sauce over everything?" the women exclaimed in horror.

"There's chunks of raw meat all over the place! Agatha, clean up this mess at once, before Clive sees it!"

But the boy was already deep in the forest, humming merrily to himself. Fragrant flowers were blooming all around, birds were singing sweetly, and fluffy chipmunks and ribbontails occasionally darted across the path in a most pleasing fashion.

A passer-by, however, would have seen a very different picture... The trail that Clive had left through the forest looked more like a warpath than a pastoral idyll. Wherever he set foot, flowers withered and turned to mush, trees splintered and fell, and animals scattered in all directions. Those who did not manage to get out of his way met a sad fate.

"I bet my aunties have missed me already!" the boy suddenly thought. "I'd better go back home and give them all a kiss! And I'll tell them the new name I've come up with for myself: not Clive, but Cleaver!"

Delighted with this innovation, he ran excitedly home. Well, who knows what would have befallen his nannies, had not a passing Guardian noticed the little terror and intervened. Clive the Cleaver turned out to be a tough nut to crack, even for Master Cornelius.

It took many long hours of research for the scientist to determine that the reason for the boy's cruelty was not an inherently malevolent nature, but a pebble he had accidentally swallowed. It granted Clive tremendous power, but directed his natural energy and zest for life towards dark ends. Cleaver spent the rest of his childhood under the strict supervision of the Guardians, who managed to turn the mischief of the Darkness against itself.