Another
timberland-style killing. Five more skewered victims had been discovered. It
looked like the undead trees were branching out.
When felled timber
refuses to log off, it’s a job for me: Paul Bunyan, Zombie Tree Killer. Time to
sharpen my axe.
With my blue ox,
Babe, at my side, we headed into the deep woods. After many difficult miles
through virgin forest we came to a copse of unrooted tree-corpses. All the most
notorious zombie foliage was there: “The Widowmaker”. “Pine Barrens.” “Captain
Acorn.” “The Mighty Oak.” “Weeping Willow.” “Treebeard.” “Stumpy.”
I felt a sliver go up
my spine and turned to find “Dutch Elm” with a twig against my back.
“You’re really
barking up the wrong tree this time, Bunyan” said Dutch.
“Hello shrubs” I
said. “If a tree falls in the forest and no one’s there, does it make a sound?”
Dutch lowered his
twig. “Gee” he said. “You got me stumped!”
“Not yet.” I replied.
Before you could shout “Timber!” I wielded my mighty axe. Soon no zombie tree
was left standing. I surveyed the kindling all around me. Placing my arm around
Babe, I said, “Our job here is done. Time to leaf.” Babe just groaned, as she
always does.
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