You smile, a fake smile, he should know that it's a fake smile, then you just drop your paintbrush and grab the bottom of the paint can with your newly freed hand, swiftly bringing the can up and around to smash down over Harry Buck's head. There's an amazing crunch and the tearing of flesh. His head is a bit wider than the paint can. Red paint slowly mixes with the Buck clan's notoriously dark blood. There's some muffled, bubbly screaming.
You drive the handle of the discarded brush into Buck's midsection and call for the band to strike up a tune! Everyone will think it was an innocent pig-painting accident! Buck squeals.
"Oh shit," you cry out, "the third totally innocent pig-painting related death I've ever heard of! Just like those other times this happened around here, sad isn't it."
You try to swallow. Your throat is dry, dry.
You're pretty sure that everyone bought it. You call the police on your phone to report an accident.
The End.