Betty McKinley tore through the house in a fiery huff.
“Where the hell is it!” she demanded.
“How on earth should I know,” said her husband Robert. “I don’t wear the darn thing.”
“No.” she said. “But you never did like it!”
“I liked it well enough,” he said.
“You just never liked anyone else liking it!”
“Well damn, Betty, you did get quite a lot of stares. It was more distracting than anything else. People spent more time talking about that dress than was necessary.”
“You're only jealous because no one was paying any attention to you!” said Betty. “Heaven forbid I should get a little flattery thrown my way on a Saturday night! Oh, we can’t have that! That’s what I get for marrying a corn grower, I suppose. I swear Robert, you need to get off the farm more!”
A flock of crows gathered in the shade of a leafy elm tree and considered the new scarecrow.
A brown cow on a neighboring hillside stood transfixed, chewing grass and gazing at the new cornfield attraction.
The crows then situated themselves on a roadside fence and seemed to discuss the matter.
“Do we dare go over?”
“Is it some sort of trick?”
“What if it’s not as phony as the other scarecrow?”
"It sure doesn’t look very scary.”
The scarecrow in question had a few questions of his own.
“Why am I made to suffer this humiliation? I was a perfectly content, though somewhat inept, scarecrow. But I used to possess a certain dignity and, except for the crows, was treated with a little respect. Now they stand there and stare, thinking of new ways to mock me.
“Well, I will not allow them the satisfaction. No matter how silly I feel in this slinky dress I will wear it as I would a shield, fending off my attackers one by one and never admitting defeat!
"But, again, I pose the question: why? why? why?”