My Scarecrow Is A Straight-Up Snack
A weathered flannel, beautiful blonde hair, and overalls that hug his body in all the right places. I’ve inadvertently created the sexiest scarecrow to ever scare crow. With piercing cobalt eyes and a barrel-chest, he sports a permanent come hither smile. I’m Dr. Frankenstein and the scarecrow is my Monster. Only the townsfolk do not cower before him, nor do they wish to burn him at the stake — instead everyone who encounters my scarecrow, simply put, wants a piece of dat straw ass.
On Devil’s Night, it wasn’t local ruffians egging our house or tee-peeing our trees, but local divorcees trying their damndest to remove that scarecrow from his post and take him to the local wine bar. I had to call the police. It was kind of an ugly scene.
Crows are not immune to the charms of my scarecrow either. Since placing him outside, the number of crows visiting our modest farm has nearly tripled. In fact, I’ve had to put up another uglier scarecrow next to the hot one just to keep them at bay. But I think in the eyes of the crows, it actually makes my original scarecrow more attractive having an ugly scarecrow next to him because it means he’s not superficial.
Adolescent boys bring clipboards and take notes as they stare at my scarecrow, in hopes that they can take something away from his success with the opposite sex and inject it into their…
