There’s an orc sitting in a well. It can’t get out. The orc looks up at the sky. A bird flies past.

Birds.  Birds are delicious.  If only that bird would fly into the well instead of flying past, then the orc wouldn’t be so hungry.  A memory plays out in the orc’s head as he gazes as the sky…

“Come eat”  his mom called up his tunnel of the warren.  The orc was salivating for hours at the smells of what she had been cooking.  He finally got his chance to eat the yummy dish.  He ran down the tunnel toward the cook room, and saw the huge pie that his mom had just finished putting the last touches on: crispy crows’ feet decorated the edges, indicating the filling perfectly.  The orc was just about to run into the room and pounce on his dinner when all of a sudden he was pushed aside and trampled upon as his brothers and sisters all ran in ahead of him, scooping out the steaming birds from inside the pie and running away to snack on their plundering.

When the orc finally stood up and got to the dinner table, all that was left was crust and the decorative bird feet, so he wrapped as many as he could in some pastry, kissed his mom, and went to his room to eat his dinner…

The orc looks up at the sky and waits for another bird to fly by, licking his lips.