I listen to them. They say I'm beautiful when it gets cold. They love my red color, but they complain when all the red falls off and they have to rake it up. No one says it's beautiful when one of them loses the stuff on top. 'Hair' they call it. The two-trunks are disgusting creatures.
After I'm bald, they go around and drive tubes into my bark and catch my sap in buckets. Oh, the pain! The oak told me they boil down the sap and eat it on pancakes (whatever that is). Revolting.
None of them will allow another two-trunk to drive tubes into their bark and collect their red sap in buckets. 'Blood' they call it. Although the dogwood told me he heard some of them talking about a movie (whatever that is) where the two-trunks did that to each other and laughed about it. Disgusting creatures! I wish I had been planted somewhere far away from these lunatics.
The oak told me when I die, I won't go to two-trunk heaven (whatever that is) but to the lumber mill. 'Hardwood floors' they call it. What an insult to my beauty. I feel safe in saying the trees will still be around long after the disgusting two-trunks. No creature so revolting can possibly survive its own stupidity.
The next time you see a bald two-trunk eating pancakes, think of me.
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