Eyes watering, Ben stared weakly down at his plate. He was unable to hide his total revulsion at the food in front of him: already he was gagging, just from the sight and smell.

His father sneered at him from across the table. "All of it. Every bite," he repeated, smiling cruelly at Ben's horrified face.

Ben tried to swallow his fear. He couldn't quite manage it. "P-Papi...Father," he begged, knowing he would never be permitted to address his father so casually as his brother did. "Please don't! Please, don't make me eat the broccoli!"

His father's smirk twisted into an ugly scowl. "You'll do as you're told, Benedict!" he barked, slamming his hands down loudly onto the table. "If you slack off on your shift, you pay the price! Just like every other rotten brat in my tapioca factory! Now, EAT it!"

"You—You wouldn't make Monty do it!" Ben cried, hiding his face in his hands to block out the towering plate of vegetables before him.

He knew it was the wrong thing to say before the words had even left his mouth. "That's because Monty isn't a failure and a coward, like you!" Papi roared, his shadowy form towering over Ben like a creature out of hell. "You'll EAT it! ALL of it! You're not leaving this table, Benedict, not until you've completely cleared your plate!"

A towering wall of flames rose up behind him at the roared words. Ben screamed and covered his head, wishing desperately that the nightmare could be over.

It wasn't his fault he couldn't be like Monty! He'd do anything to have his father's love instead of hate, the way Papi was toward his older brother. It wasn't fair, that Papi treated them so differently!

Trembling, Ben reached out for the plate of broccoli. He forced himself not to gag, gently placing the smallest green piece in his mouth. The taste was more than he could bear.

Satisfied, his father sat back down at the other end of the table. He chuckled evilly at his son's discomfort. "Good boy," he said, clearly not meaning a word of it.

When I grow up and have kids, Ben swore to himself, choking down the broccoli with tears in his eyes, I won't play favorites. I'll treat ALL my children as equals—even if I have two, or five, or three hundred sixty-two of 'em! I'll make sure they're all the same, exactly the same! Maybe I'll even give them the same birthday!

He'd be a good father, Ben resolved fiercely, imagining his own future with tears streaming down his face. He'd give his children cake, and ice cream and presents; he'd make all the other kids in the neighborhood sit there and watch while his sons and daughters received everything they ever wanted. He'd give them the entire world, the very moon in the sky if they asked for it.

And his children would love him and give him their absolute loyalty and devotion in return. Their family would be perfect, absolutely perfect. Ben knew his own children would be so very, very delightful.

Their Father would never make the same mistakes that their Grandfather had. He'd be the greatest Father in the world.

It almost made him want to grow up tomorrow.