I stood before the pack of wild dogs, hoping for a miracle.
Instead, the ice cream truck drove past taunting my stomach. I considered running after the truck, but the fear of thirty sets of tiny Chihuahua teeth kept my feet planted. The tiny growls grew like a chorus of electric pencil sharpeners preparing for my demise.
With the flash of a fluffy tail, a Chihuahua in the back of the group disappeared behind a tree. The pack turned at the squeal of their comrade, and a second Chihuahua was yanked up a tree.
Was the tree trying to save me?
Actually, it turned out to be a couple of psychotic squirrels. It was quite a thing to see a squirrel fighting a tiny dog, and quite another to see the squirrel win.
Unfortunately, the squirrels were far out numbered. I ran, and the squirrels followed.
Once we were out of the Chihuahua’s territory, the pack gave up the chase. I doubt I can ever walk that block in the neighborhood again.
I asked the squirrels why they had bothered to help me. One of them just drooled, perhaps it was rabid, and I became a bit concerned. Then the other spoke up. The dying tree had sent them, concerned that a dolt like me would run into trouble.
Having a talking squirrel at hand, I asked about the tiny orange forest. They had no clue. I concluded the trees of the orange forest must be without nuts because these squirrels never bothered with any other sort of tree.
Realizing the dying tree had provided sage advice, I headed east as he suggested.
After being forced to turn south by a dead-end street, and subsequently getting lost in a southerly direction for several blocks, I decided to give up and head home. Unfortunately, the nature of being lost made it difficult to discern which direction home might be.
I saw some familiar looking power lines and decided to follow them. Hopefully, they were extensions of the same power lines near my residence. Poor logic is better than no logic at all.
I nearly walked right past the tiny orange forest. I made a note to keep perspective in mind for future conversations with trees. Their classification of what constitutes a tree appears a bit more inclusive than the human definition.
I could barely call them trees, let alone a forest:
However, I did realize I was already on the electric path: the power lines. Back on track, and prideful that poor logic had worked out, I rekindled my mission.
The electric path led me through the neighborhood, past a grocery store, over a row of dumpsters and finally to here:
The tree-mangler assassin had been at work for some time, collecting quite a few trophies.
Even the rare red cactus had fallen victim:
This hidden back lot was empty, but it made sense that the Arbor Day Assassin would return to his layer.
Also, I considered that even if I could find the right missing treetop, it was futile to return it. There would be no way to re-attach the top; wood glue is terribly mis-marketed.
Besides, the terrible tree terror would just keep on a rampage.
That’s when I heard it. The tasty jingle of the ice cream truck. My stomach became elated. To my surprise, the ice cream truck pulled into the lot.
And, the truth finally set in: the ice cream man was the Arbor Day Assassin. He supported his tree-torturing hobby by selling frozen treats. This was devastating.
My stomach flopped, flipped and performed an entire floor routine of agonized betrayal. I should have video recorded this performance as my stomach still swears it was competition worthy. I’ve tried to explain to him that a stomach cannot compete in the Olympics, but denial is a powerful thing.
In spite of my stomach’s routine, which caused some nausea, I did the only thing I could. I walked away from the ice cream truck…
and went to the grocery instead.
With my belly full of chocolate ice cream, I had enough clarity to know violent reactions would solve nothing. Though, I still felt a bit of Arbor Day guilt. Thus, I swore an oath that I would support the trees another way:
From now on, I will forgo ice cream trucks in support of the trees.
Eventually, the ice cream truck driver will go bankrupt and fall to pieces, taking his tree-torturing hobbies with him. So, I ask you to please join me…
Become an Arbor Day Avenger. Boycott ice cream trucks.