Corn. That was Jacob's life. Corn. All day long, he sat in a field looking out over the corn. Guarding it from all those dangerous birds. God forbid they might take some of this precious corn. Six acres of corn, and not a single ear could go to waste. Jacob wouldn't even have minded so much if old man McGreggor would spare a kind word every now and again. "Nice job Jacob. Way to keep those birds away." But no, it was always, "Stupid scarecrow. Waste of good hay if you ask me. Could be put to better use feeding the horses." What a life.

It was raining now. Jacob's hat, ripped and tattered, offered little protection from the rain. Drops of water gathered in what was left of its wide brim, then dripped down over his face and down into his shirt, dampening the hay used to make up his body, hay which had long since gone rotten. There was a stirring in the corn as Farmer McGreggor appeared. He inspected the corn carefully, taking each ear in his hands and examining it.

"Well well well," he said, "What do we have here" Why it looks like bite marks. It looks like some birds came along and helped themselves to my corn. But shoot, that can't be right. I mean after all, I have this fearsome scarecrow to keep the birds away. So what I'm wondering is if the scarecrow doesn't keep the birds away, why in tarnation is the stupid scarecrow sitting in my field taking up my space?"

The old man spat. "Good for nothing sack of hay. You really think you're something don't you? Sitting here all high and mighty watching over the corn." He grinned. "That will all end soon though. You've been a pain in my side for far too long. If you only knew how long I've wanted to get rid of you, how long I've waited. You'll meet your end soon enough though. Stupid scarecrow." Farmer McGreggor kicked at the post which held Jacob up. The thin wood tilted and shook. Loose hay fell from Jacob's arms, as the old man walked away.

"Sir?" the other man said, a touch of concern on his face, "Are you," he paused, "all right?"

"What?" Farmer McGreggor looked confused, "Oh yeah I'm fine. Just you let me be."

"Okay," said the man in the suit, all too ready to get out of here.

"Now where were we?" the farmer grinned again, as he lifted up a nearby ax. The ax stuck the flimsy post once, splintering it. Jacob swayed back and forth up top, unable to believe what was happening. The second blow split the post in half, sending Jacob crashing to the ground. He fell through the tall corn, which he had stood watch over for so very long, and landed face down in the dirt. The soil covering his head, and filling up the tiny holes in his button eyes. He could here the old man's cackles, and feel his approach. The farmer's hands wrapped around Jacob's chest, and lifted him into the air. The farmer swung Jacob's limp body around, the dirt still clinging to his face, and finally tossed the battered scarecrow onto the back of his tractor.

Jacob still couldn't see anything, but felt the tractor as the engine came to life. He felt the corn strike his body as it gave way to the tractor. He felt the wind hit his body as they emerged from the cornfield. For the first time in his life Jacob was outside of the corn. All these years he had dreamt of this moment, and now that it was finally here Jacob felt nothing but defeat. Guarding corn was the only life Jacob knew. Now suddenly even that had been taken away from him. Jacob felt useless. Maybe the farmer was right after all. He was just a useless bag of hay. Not needed in life, not missed in death.

Slowly, Jacob pushed himself off of the ground, and tried to stand. His legs gave out beneath him, and he tumbled to the floor. Again and again he tried, only to fall. All this time, Jacob realized, the only thing keeping him up had been that stake. What he thought of as his prison, binding him to the ground, was actually the very thing holding him upright. Cursing his luck yet again, Jacob looked around the barn in search of some sort of makeshift crutch. The horse lay in the far corner, staring intently at Jacob. On the opposite wall, a torch hung above Jethro's food bin. His water trough sat nearby, nearly empty. A large canister of gasoline for McGreggor's tractor sat near the door. That was it. Now determined not to let the old man win, Jacob dragged himself along the ground to the horse's food bin. With great effort, he pulled himself up, leaning against the large crate. Prying the lid open with what was left of his stake, Jacob reached inside. His straw fingers sifted through the various oats and grains inside, and finally settled on a carrot.

Jacob held the carrot out. The horse didn't move. Jacob waved the carrot around, it was old and limp, and bent back and forth as he waved it. The horse slowly raised his head, looking at the scarecrow's offering. Emphatically, Jacob swung the carrot back and forth. Slowly, the horse rose up. He stretched and yawned, going to great lengths to show Jacob just how uninterested he was. Desperation was clear on the scarecrow's face as he continued to bait the horse. Jethro began walking towards Jacob. He stopped just outside Jacob's reach, and looked the scarecrow skeptically. He had not forgotten their last meeting. Jethro walked around Jacob, approaching him from the side. Jacob turned to face the horse, and again offered the limp vegetable. Jethro inched his head forward, sniffing at the carrot. The horse cast Jacob one last cautious glance, and reached out, taking the carrot and most of Jacob's hand in his mouth. Jacob smiled, as he swung his straw body up on top of the horse. With his bad hand firmly inside Jethro's bridle, holding him in place, Jacob begun plotting.

"It's not the raccoons, dear. I think you ought to take a look." "Oh for crying out loud," McGreggor grumbled, as he swung his legs out of bed. "Where're my glasses?" By this time it was clear the noise was growing closer. As the old man struggled to find his glasses, he could hear something striking his bedroom door. "What in the blazes?" His hands, now trembling slightly, finally fell upon his glasses. At the same time the old wood of the doorframe gave way, and the bedroom door collapsed.

Farmer McGreggor put his glasses on to see his horse reared up on his hind legs. Atop the horse sat Jacob, cackling madly, one hand clinging to the horse, the other wildly swung a blazing torch. "What in tarnation is going on here!" gasped the startled farmer.

"What is it dear?" asked his wife.

"I don't know," came the confused response, "It looks like that stupid scarecrow."

"What does it want?"

Jacob felt giddy as he listened to them, as he saw the exasperated look on the old farmer's face. He laughed harder and harder as their conversation progressed, as he struggled to control the horse. Finally the farmer looked up at Jacob, "What do you want?" he asked in a trembling voice.