I was a good tree. I didn't spit on people when they weren't looking. I didn't picture the other trees naked. I never extended my roots to absorb the nutrients around the marijuana plants this chainsaw guy planted around me, even though all the other trees were doing it.
Oh, what did I ever do to deserve this?
I was blessed with the good looks of my father, who had abandoned me to become a blimp pilot, and left me on Chainsaw Guy's mother's doorstep. His mother had always wanted a child and didn't know she'd been knocked up by the milkman, so she took me in. After Chainsaw Guy was born she always favoured me. Thought I was smarter, she used to say. I was a cocky kid because of it.
I'd always been a playboy, and Chainsaw Guy was always in my shadow. I was with another girl every night, but he only ever had this sickly looking chick that barely ever talked. Her name was Yvonne. I didn't pity him. I wasn't happy. I could've had any girl I wanted, but they were all bubble-gum brained. I wanted Chainsaw Guy's chick. I don't know what it was about her. I didn't like her at all. She spat when she talked, which, like I said, was hardly ever. Her hair looked unwashed. She wore out of style clothes. I could of and did have a hundred girls better than her in every way, but each had fallen short. At first, it was a fantasy. But after a while, I convinced myself I needed her to be happy.
Finally, I made my move. I knew she wasn't the type to two-time. I had to get Chainsaw Guy out of the picture. She stuck to him like glue. A room got considerably more lame every time they walked into it. They made stupid comments all the time, like how old people were still useful, and should be treasured in society. They'd talk about how neighbourhood kids had gotten taller this year. The kind of conversation that makes you want to slit your wrists for entertainment. I was going to straighten her out. She wouldn't be boring when she was my gal.
Chainsaw Guy had to go. It wasn't hard coming up with a plan. He was so gullible, I had once gotten him to make my bed for six months because I told him I was allergic to the fabric.
I told him Yvonne had come by looking for him while he was out. That she'd said she never wanted to see him again. Well, the plan was that he'd become so withdrawn that he'd sulk in his room for a month or so while I told a similar story to Yvonne and made the moves on her. They were thick enough to buy it. It got out of control, though. As soon as I told him, he ran out the door and into the woods behind the house. He was screaming her name as he sobbed. I almost laughed. I hoped Yvonne was less emotional. She was.
When I finally got home that night our mother, bless her, said Chainsaw Guy hadn't come home. I thought that was odd, considering he had no friends. I was too bushed to care much, though. I hit the sack and was asleep in minutes. When I got up the next morning his bed was still empty. I cared a little.
There had been a terrible snowstorm in the night. I'd slept right through it. Chainsaw Guy's Mother was in hysterics.
