A lone girl stared out her dusty, cracked, tombstone-shaped window.
It was snowing outside, and she wanted to eat corn. Golden, creamy, just-out-of-the-microwave cream corn. Her stomach growled in protest as she stuck her finger out and drew a picture of an ear of corn on her dusty, dirty window, right next to the one she drew yesterday, and the day before that.
The ravens outside cawed.
Corn.
Corn.
Corn.
They mocked her. Angor frowned, her monobrow scrunching into an angry, bushy black caterpillar. She shoved at her window so hard she made a gaping hole right in the middle, slicing open a fresh wound on her lower arm, matching the scars on the other.
The dozens of other holes on her window creaked and wailed as they welcomed their new brethren.
Ignoring the new addition to her arm, the blue-haired girl took out her favorite slingshot and notched a rather sharp glass fragment onto the rubber band.
Corn.
Corn.
Corn.
CAW!
The dead crow fell, fell, fell.
Right onto the corn plant in Angor's backyard.
Angor jumped down the stairs and ran out the retrieve her prize.
She grabbed the crow and headed back inside.
Twenty minutes later, the blue-haired, monobrowed, hungry girl was still blue-haired, monobrowed but was no longer hungry.
She picked her teeth with a black beak.
Crows were better than corn, she decided. Then she headed back upstairs.
Outside, the crows were as silent as the little corn plant in Angor's backyard.
