a poorly written essay on operant conditioning

There was once a girl named Alagaster, who, like her name, was just a bit out of the ordinary. Her friends, the three, called her Alli. Alli spent most of her days reading and drawing in the small corner nook behind a piano. There Alli felt she could escape the aging sorrow that creaked out between the molding cracks of her home- all until she grew hungry or was called to bathe. Even when she was hungry though, Alli wouldn’t leave her fantasy worlds behind the piano for long as she had only an appetite for cold hot dogs and bologna. Alli usually chose bologna and would crawl back behind the piano to dance in her pencil lines, and re-shaped bitten bologna lined the cream walls where Alli smooshed them for snacks later. Alli’s mother detested her snacking. Several times she had woken in fear to the smell of cold, raw air, thinking an intruder or dog had come in she would follow the must until she would find Alli awake and reading under an oscar meyer canopy. “I was hungry.” Alli always said. “Get straight back to bed!” her mother always replied.