Peacefully contemplating, Candice Solibo clandestinely glanced upward, observing the high ceiling of her brother's grandiose and ornate library, congratulating herself on her cunningly devised plan. With the fire spitting and writhing malevolently behind her, Candice reminisced about her amazing act earlier that day, when the psychiatrist, Jen Levre, had come by unexpectedly, asking for Candice to have a seat, because the terrible news was coming. Her brother was insane. Candice had done her best to cry, to hide the joy which immediately welled within her. Of course, she had expected this news, practically known him to be crazy—that was why she installed the chandelier so close to the stepladder. It was all part of the plan. Cringing, Candice recalled the torture, when she had had to fool Jen, sitting, calling her brother ‘poor, confused Steve’. Oh, how it had made her sick, pitying her brother like that. She stopped reminiscing. It didn't matter now. Her ruse had worked. So now she sat, excitement welling within her, to the point that she couldn't even concentrate on her favorite book, Vile Schemes, written by the felon E. Phil Man. Quietly grinning, Candice was glad the psychiatrist had left, that now her perfect plan could ensue. When she finally turned all her attention back to the ceiling, Candice stifled a giggle at the undeniable genius of her ploy.

Above Candice, where fifty foot shelves arced toward the intricately painted ceiling, her brother was swinging crazily, gripping the chandelier and howling like a baboon. Steve was thrilled, slicing through the air and slobbering on his best suit. Flapping wildly, Steve's tie flew behind him, slowly constricting his air pipe. The tie, which was once his favorite, now threatened his life. Vaguely aware, Steve's befuddled mind whirled about, transforming the ostentatious library into a dark, humid jungle. While his body whirred through the air, gripping the chandelier like a monkey swinging through the forest, Steve's mind ventured into the past, when he had ripped off his sports coat and climbed up the ladder, then fell onto the chandelier. He was scared. Helplessly, Steve wondered why Candice wasn't calling him down. Where was the psychiatrist to give him his pills? Steve's grip was slipping, and shelves loomed before him, taking the shape of a fierce, roaring waterfall. Screaming through the air, Steve didn't know what to do; hanging from the ceiling on the rich chandelier, there was no escape for poor Steve.

Candice, seated below her unfortunate brother, was, in appearance, calm, unaffected by the peril which was taking place above her, her head turned slightly to the right as she observed the elevated scene. What was she doing? She was waiting. Thoughtfully waiting, heartlessly waiting, Candice watched as her brother struggled. While she watched, she wondered what she would buy first, now that she was certainly going to receive her almost dead brother's extensive and valuable inheritance. Candice also contemplated whether or not her plan had truly covered everything, but she decided to trust that her four years of planning would hold against anything the lawyers threw at her. Having gotten this far, Candice presumed that nothing could now separate her from success. Since there was nothing else to do, Candice simply sat, waiting, waiting and watching as her dreadful scheme came to a close.