It was 1993 and I was left alone during the Summer holidays, as my wife was in Tokyo attending her cousin’s wedding. Most married men will tell you my situational bliss. I had nothing naughty in mind, but some handy thoughts after each 6-pack of beer or litre of wine.
I rented a few Monty Python VHS and planned to spend hours viewing. I also had gotten out a few books for reading in my 3 foot deep heated bathtub. Things seemed to be going well and I was quite happy to see my wife had left me, in our refrigerator, a nutritious bento.
After eating lunch, I got a toothpick and this marks the time things started getting whacky. The toothpick sneezed and said in broken English, ’I a tree.’ I look at it and threw it in the trash where I heard some thrashing.
Maybe a toothpick that talks a tad unbelievable, but that only the beginning. Soon my chopsticks started bending and it seemed in my knotty-pine hallway walls I heard disturbing chatter.
A young front yard tree, a weeping willow, had left a few leaf unbeknownst to me telling all wooden objects she had been treated poorly. I adored this tree and went out to water it after I had finished me beer.