Fuck Cornfields

We ran to the shed. Our Uncle, really our cousin, gathered us and had us hide in the cornfield. I hate cornfields. Unk smoked weed with the Hartley hillbillies. They lived on the other side of the cornfield. They grew their weed in the cornfield behind their house. Unk did something. I think Unk stole some of their crops. Gunshots in the night. We shook on the cold earth in the cornfield. The leader of their pack shot and killed our dog. We loved Quippy. I hate cornfields.