conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for a story with the title 'A Murder of Crows'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A Murder of Crows
  Oddly angled arms, dangling hands, shirts stuffed with straw and stuck up on a pole out in a cornfield. If I were a crow, they'd scare the bejeebers out of me. As it is, being a human, I still wouldn't want to meet one in a dark alley, even though I know they're just lifeless dummies with permanent bad-hair days. Heck, I'd rather not even see them in a cornfield in the bright sunlight.
  In fact, the worst day of my life was the day my kindergarten class went on a field trip to Emma Krumbee's Apple Orchard just outside of Jordan, Minnesota, to pick apples. The apples were great —believe me, nothing tastes better than fresh apples right off the tree in the crisp days of autumn. But what was not so great was that Emma's had a display of scarecrows for the harvest season, and our teacher, Mrs. Meyers, shepherded us right through the middle of it to get to the apple trees.
  Talk about spooky. Not only were there Frankenstein and vampire scarecrows, but straw-filled contorted body shapes wearing doctor and nurse uniforms, complete with scalpels and knee hammers. Throw in a pair of scarecrows dressed in high school letter jackets and it could have passed for the set of a teen slasher movie. The most horrifying moment, though, was when I happened to find myself looking up at a leering clown face painted on a pumpkin head perched atop an overstuffed tuxedo, and every nightmare I'd ever had of white-faced scary clowns with mops of maniac hair came roaring back at me.
  My classmates may never know how close they came to wearing my breakfast of Honey-nut Os and strawberry Pop-tarts.
  I clapped a hand over my eyes and grabbed the back of the jacket of the kid in front of me. I was done. No way was I looking at any more scarecrows. I figured my classmate could just tow me blind to the apples, but he ratted me out.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Although something about what I had said lodged in my head. I had an overwhelming feeling that doubting what you eat or drink was somehow important to figuring out why Sonny had been murdered. Before I could piece the thought together with another, however, Rick started talking again.
  I could imagine. In a small town, scandals marked you for life, even if you were the unwitting victim. From what I'd seen of Gina, though, I would have guessed that if anyone could survive a reputation blow, it would have been our Family and Consumer Science teacher. Gina was tough, and she believed in taking responsibility so much that she demanded it of her students.
  Besides, according to Rick, Gina hadn't known that Sonny was married, so why had she felt she had to take the fall?
  Just ask Sonny Delite's ghost. He'd probably thought that his tea was going to wake him up, not put him to sleep... permanently.
  I pulled up in front of Boo Metternick's little house in Shakopee at five-thirty in the morning. Before I could put the car in park, though, Boo came striding out of his front door, a big smile on his face and a backpack slung over his shoulder.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I had an overwhelming feeling that doubting what you eat or drink was somehow important to figuring out why Sonny had been murdered. Before I could piece the thought together with another, however, Rick started talking again.
  I could imagine. In a small town, scandals marked you for life, even if you were the unwitting victim. From what I'd seen of Gina, though, I would have guessed that if anyone could survive a reputation blow, it would have been our Family and Consumer Science teacher. Gina was tough, and she believed in taking responsibility so much that she demanded it of her students.
  Besides, according to Rick, Gina hadn't known that Sonny was married, so why had she felt she had to take the fall?
  Just ask Sonny Delite's ghost. He'd probably thought that his tea was going to wake him up, not put him to sleep... permanently.
  I pulled up in front of Boo Metternick's little house in Shakopee at five-thirty in the morning. Before I could put the car in park, though, Boo came striding out of his front door, a big smile on his face and a backpack slung over his shoulder.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I groaned. Greg Bernson was already my number one pick for delinquent of the year, with more hours logged sitting in my office this fall than even Sara Schiller, prior to her turn-around, that is. Less than six days into the new school year, Rick had predicted that Greg wasn't going to make it three weeks before he became a regular in detention hall, and unless my memory failed me, I'd just renewed Greg's detention pass the day before my tires were slashed.
  A lean, muscular man, clad in a head-to-toe leotard, stepped into the living room. He struck a wrestling pose I recognized from the internet photos Alan and I had looked at weeks ago.
  Though he still looked huge, I had to admit that the black was slimming on him. From a distance, the two men could almost be identical.
  I looked at Alan's face for his reaction. His eyes jumped from one Crusher to the other and back again. Paul pulled off his face mask, and he and Boo circled each other while other faculty members cheered them on.
  My enjoyment of the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum has spanned decades, and even though I think the annual scarecrow display is pretty creepy, I couldn't resist using it as the setting for a murder. Finally, I want to salute the real Chef Tom, Red, and everyone at Millie's Deli for the wonderful meals my family enjoyed there over the years. You are sorely missed!
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: You are sorely missed!. Finally, I want to salute the real Chef Tom, Red, and everyone at Millie's Deli for the wonderful meals my family enjoyed there over the years.
  My enjoyment of the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum has spanned decades, and even though I think the annual scarecrow display is pretty creepy, I couldn't resist using it as the setting for a murder. Paul pulled off his face mask, and he and Boo circled each other while other faculty members cheered them on. His eyes jumped from one Crusher to the other and back again.
  I looked at Alan's face for his reaction. From a distance, the two men could almost be identical.
  Though he still looked huge, I had to admit that the black was slimming on him. He struck a wrestling pose I recognized from the internet photos Alan and I had looked at weeks ago.
  A lean, muscular man, clad in a head-to-toe leotard, stepped into the living room. Less than six days into the new school year, Rick had predicted that Greg wasn't going to make it three weeks before he became a regular in detention hall, and unless my memory failed me, I'd just renewed Greg's detention pass the day before my tires were slashed. Greg Bernson was already my number one pick for delinquent of the year, with more hours logged sitting in my office this fall than even Sara Schiller, prior to her turn-around, that is.I groaned