Boy. Watchu doin' climbing

up into my branches with

teary eyes and snotty nose for?

You think you got a lot to

complain about? Try being a

tree. I make air and give

shade. And you know how

people repay me? By killing

my family and friends to make

something called paper. Ungrateful

ingrates won't even recycle. They

throw trash all up on my

roots and stapled my favorite

cousin, Eddie, to my face

with a picture that said "lost puppy." He used

to sway in the breeze with me too. Even

birds and squirrels who use me as shelter are

rude to me. Taking dumps and doing the do in

my luscious leaves. Like I don't have

enough problems with that anyway.

I mean, I catch sun with those

HELLO. I'm 98 years old and have been carved

into, burned by light in the sky, pissed on,

and shat on. I'm old ya hear me. Each

breeze makes my branches clang and

my trunk creak. Here I've cast some

shade so why don't you go and sit on

the grass. They won't mind, they're

masochistic. After all, they keep

coming back to be mowed down.