He was watching the crow. That's when he

He was watching the crow. That's when he noticed a little black staircase lower from its stomach. Tiny little elves were deplaning out of the crow's chest.

Right into a smashed pile of moonpies in the 7-11 parking lot. The tiny elves worked on the mess with tiny shovels, brooms, dustpans and recyclable bags. A murder of crows arrived

and promptly began to pluck the poor little elves' eyes from their faces. My, how they wiggled, but they were no match for the murder of murderous crows. The tiniest elf, Jim, br

ought a crowbar to the fight. That could potentially do some damage. But Gordon Freeman he was not, and he was too small to even weild it. The crows descended upon him, and they

were really really scary. Their black talons tore through his fragile frame like a bowling ball through a giant vat of espresso flavored pudding. When the feathers settled, nothing

remained but a gentle dusting of cocoa on a layer of frothed full-cream milk, covering a rich, dark brown mass beneath. The creatures poked at it gingerly with their dark talons,

Forever addicted to the frothy mixture. It had a calming yet also energizing property. It made their eyes glow brighter. The prep of the mix had turned into an art form all its own

which did not surprise the Watchers at all. At this stage of development, prepping an addictive frothy mix with a certain focus and attention might

help in the creation of the world. Jehovah poured the mixture into a large baking pan and turned to the Watchers. "Now set the timer for seven days. and voila!... Oh, Half-baked."