Today we're on the scene to investigate the alleged mass slaying of migrant workers by a plastic fruit corporation. After following a muddy trail of countless footprints to get here, I don't see any sign of wrongdoing. All I see is this empty cornfield, a pile of spent cartridges, and this innocent looking hill of topsoil. We checked the surrounding abandoned homes for witnesses and found no one who could substantiate the allegation, which may have been fabricated by a group of artists with a known dislike of fake fruit. Apparently it makes a poor still life subject. Well, that's their problem.
Nothing at all to look at here. This is the kind of place where you can let your dog out for a run if he's been cooped up in the car too long. Hi, Lucky! What have you got in your mouth? A femur? The sheep around here must have enormous thighs.
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