Frek put his plate away in the dishwasher. It had been another successful meal. He'd been hungry and cleaned his plate, except for one small grain of rice.
"Hey," cried the rice. "What about me?"
Frek looked around for the voice, but seeing only his reflection on his clean plate, he dismissed it. But he missed the grain of rice again. It clung barely to the edge of the plate, as if to say 'Please, eat me.'
The grain of rice grabbed the plate and swung mightily. Frek's head came off cleanly.
end