Poptart Sprunkles burst out of the hall of Westington High tears welling up in her eyes. She was done with this school, with this life. Her ability to even disappeared just like her self confidence.
Slumping down against the wall, she picked out today's lunch, pizza with a side of corn, from her long, auburn hair. Poptart was teased for her sexuality. Nobody understood her lust for chickens. She lived on a farm for almost her whole life and has always a strange urge for tending to the chickens. It wasn't until she watched Chicken Little where she noticed her feelings for the chicken species. When Poptart told her parents, they were against it and took a sudden interest in locking up the chickens at night.
She cried and cried but no one could empathize with her. Still with tears in her eyes, Poptart ran home to the farm, but didn't enter. She wept by the old, wooden fence, waiting for something, anything, to happen, when a chicken strutted up next to her. It nestled its way into her hair, sort of comforting her. In reality, it followed the trail of corn that she left, but Poptart didn't care. A hot chicken was cuddling with her, the reason why didn't matter.
Poptart smiled through her sobs. " Hey, what's your name?" she questioned the hottie. "Baw-COCK," it replied. She didn't actually understand chicken, but that didn't stop her from loving him. She assumed that he probably liked her back, judging from the way he was acting. He came for the corn, but he stayed for the Poptart.
