Clarence the opossum didn’t plan to become the legend of Miller’s cornfield—it just sort of happened. One moment he was sniffing around for beetles, the next he was perched on a fence rail clutching a cob like it was the Holy Grail.
The sunset was dramatic, the corn was sweet, and Clarence was... not subtle. Between nibbles, he kept an eye out for owls, raccoons, or judgmental crows. None dared interrupt. Tonight, he was king of kernels. A bat swooped overhead in silent salute, and the fireflies blinked their approval.
Clarence chewed louder. Legends should be heard.