The Mysterious Missing Morsel
Barnaby the Biscuit Pudding was not just any dessert; he was a masterpiece of layered biscuits, creamy custard, and a hint of cinnamon. He lived on a cool marble counter in a busy city apartment kitchen. Barnaby had big, round, brown eyes and a perpetually worried little mouth made of a perfectly placed raisin. This morning, however, his worry was justified. [gasp] A piece of his top layer was missing!
"Oh dear, oh dear," Barnaby whispered, his voice a soft, crumbly sound. "My perfect corner! It's vanished!"
He looked around the kitchen. Everything else was normal: the shiny toaster, the sleeping cat, the newspaper spread out on the table. Who would dare take a piece of Barnaby? It was a mystery! He was supposed to be served at dinner, whole and glorious. Now, he was... incomplete.
Barnaby decided he needed to investigate. He couldn't move much, being a pudding, but he could observe. He focused his raisin-mouth determination on the window. The city outside was loud and full of secrets.
The Shadow on the Sill
Barnaby spent the morning watching. The sun moved across the floor, and the kitchen grew quiet. He listened to the distant sounds of the city—car horns, sirens, and the occasional distant shout. He was looking for clues, anything that might explain the missing biscuit.
Suddenly, a shadow fell across the marble counter. Barnaby’s raisin-mouth trembled.
He looked up, past the window frame, and saw him: Corvus, the city crow. Corvus was known for his sharp mind and even sharper beak. He was perched right on the window sill, looking directly at Barnaby with an unnervingly intelligent gaze.
"Well, hello there, sweet treat," Corvus cawed, his voice a dry, rustling sound. He tilted his head, and Barnaby noticed something shiny in his claw.
"Wait a minute," Barnaby squeaked. "Is that... is that my missing corner?"
Corvus gave a small, knowing shake of his head. "This? This is merely a delicious, slightly cinnamon-flavored crumb. Found it just lying around, I did. A gift from the wind, perhaps?" [chuckle]
Barnaby knew he was lying. The mystery was solved, but the culprit was right there, mocking him!
The Interrogation of Corvus
Barnaby decided he couldn't let this injustice stand. He was a pudding of principle!
"Corvus," Barnaby said, trying to sound firm, which was difficult when you were mostly soft custard. "You took my biscuit. I demand to know why."
Corvus stopped preening and looked at Barnaby with one bright, black eye. "Demand? A pudding demands nothing of a crow, Barnaby. We are the masters of the sky; you are merely a temporary arrangement of sugar and starch."
"But it's not fair!" Barnaby insisted. "I was perfect! Now I have a hole. It ruins my structural integrity!" [groan]
Corvus hopped closer to the edge of the sill. "Fairness is a human concept, Barnaby. I was hungry. I saw an opportunity. I executed a flawless, silent extraction of a small, easily accessible corner."
Barnaby felt a wave of despair. "So, you admit it was you?"
"Admit? I celebrate it!" Corvus cawed loudly. "It was a brilliant heist! The perfect crime, really. No witnesses, no struggle, just a quick snack." He swallowed the last crumb with a satisfied gulp. "And it was delicious, by the way."
A Deal in the Daylight
Barnaby realized that demanding justice from a crow was like asking a cloud to stop raining. He needed a different strategy. He needed to appeal to Corvus's intelligence, or perhaps, his greed.
"Corvus," Barnaby said, taking a deep, custardy breath. "I understand you are a master thief. But what if I told you there was a way for you to get more delicious crumbs, without having to resort to... structural damage?"
Corvus paused, his head cocked. "Intriguing. Go on."
"I am going to be eaten tonight," Barnaby explained, trying not to sound too mournful. [sigh] "But before that, I need to look perfect. If you promise not to take any more pieces, I will leave you a small, carefully detached offering every morning, right here on the sill, after I am gone."
Corvus considered this. "A future payment for present good behavior? A strange concept for a pudding." He tapped his beak thoughtfully. "But the promise of regular, easy snacks... that is appealing. What's the catch?"
"The catch is," Barnaby said firmly, "you must tell me how you got in without making a sound. I need to know the secret of your silent extraction."
The Secret of the Silent Heist
Corvus agreed to the deal. A steady supply of biscuit crumbs was worth a small demonstration.
"Very well, Barnaby," Corvus announced. "The secret is not brute force, but finesse. And patience."
He flew off the sill and landed on the fire escape just outside the window. The window was only open a crack, barely enough for a hand to fit through.
"Watch closely," Corvus instructed. He waited for a slight gust of wind coming from the south. Then, instead of flying, he *glided*. He used the air current to push his body sideways, flattening his feathers, and slipped through the narrow gap with barely a whisper of sound. [gasp]
He landed silently on the counter, right next to Barnaby.
"See?" Corvus whispered, his voice now soft and conspiratorial. "No flapping, no noise. Just a perfect understanding of aerodynamics and a very sharp beak for the extraction."
Barnaby was astonished. "That's incredible! It wasn't magic; it was science!"
Corvus puffed out his chest. "Indeed. Now, about that future crumb supply..."
A Sweet Resolution
That evening, Barnaby the Biscuit Pudding was served. He was delicious, and the small missing corner was barely noticed by the humans, who were too busy [laugh] praising the chef.
The next morning, the kitchen counter was empty. Barnaby was gone, but his promise remained.
Corvus, true to his word, flew to the window sill. He peered inside. And there it was: a small, neat pile of biscuit crumbs, carefully placed on the sill, exactly where Barnaby had stood. The chef, having heard the strange cawing and perhaps sensing the pudding's silent plea, had left the offering.
Corvus ate the crumbs slowly, savoring the cinnamon flavor. He had solved the mystery of the perfect pudding, and Barnaby had solved the mystery of the silent thief. They had found a sweet resolution.
"A fair trade," Corvus cawed softly to the empty kitchen. "A very fair trade indeed." He knew that sometimes, a good deal was better than a brilliant heist. And the city, full of secrets, continued its busy day.