"Mom," fretted Bobby, "It seems to be knocking around a bit up there!"

"Don't worry," assured Bobby's mother, Susan. "Father tied it down well, didn't you, John?"

John grunted in the affirmative, and kept on driving. He didn't doubt for a moment that the stout ropes would keep their treasure strapped securely to the roof. It had been a long, wearing ride to the farm for their prize, and little Bobby had to pick out the perfect one. Still, it would all be worthwhile when it was decorated and placed in their living room. Outrageous, though, what he had been charged for the damn thing!

Susan sighed. "It seems such a shame that it had to die just to be a decoration for our holiday," she mused.

John looked askance at her. "Now Susan, you know that they're raised just for that purpose! Besides, they can always grow more for years to come!" Susan reluctantly nodded in agreement. She supposed that she was just being silly.

Nearing home, John turned over in his mind the satisfaction that he had felt in going out into the field, having his son select a fine specimen, and then personally taking an ax to it to bring it down. It kind of brought a personal element to the whole process that he wouldn't have gotten in buying one at the store.

Yes, thought John, this was going to be a special Christmas for the Conifer family! The sentient and ambulatory fir tree cut the ropes holding the human to the roof of the family chariot, and then dragged the body to the door of his house, his family following closely behind.

"Oh look!," cried Bobby excitedly. "It's still oozing blood!," he pointed out.

"That's how you can tell that they're fresh," said Susan, helping to position the body in a homo sapiens stand somewhere in a parallel universe far away...