The funny thing about trees is… nothing. There is nothing humorous about trees. No jokes that can be made, no puns to groan at. Absolutely nothing. That being said, the following chapter will contain no tree related comedy.

            “Hey,” Chippy the squirrel said to his companion, Dimmy.

            “What?” Dimmy replied.

            “What is a tree’s favorite subject in school?”

            “Gee, I don’t know. I’m stumped.”  

            “Chemistree!”

            “Hoho!” Dimmy laughed. “How about this! What do you call a tree that’s always envious?”

            “What?”

            “An evergreen!”

            “That was so bad, I’m going to have to leaf.”

            “Don’t leave yet. Remember, good things come in trees.”

            “True! What is a trees favorite movie?”

            “What?”

            “Forest Gump!”

            “Oh shut it!” Wally the badger shouted. “I hate tree jokes.”

            “Don’t worry,” Chippy replied. “They’ll grow on you!”

            “Shut up or I’ll come up there and eat you!” the badger shouted.

            “Hey Chippy,” Dimmy said to his friend. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard his bark is worse than his bight!”

            “I got one!” Chippy turned back to the badger. “We’re peaceful squirrels. If you want a fight, you’re barking up the wrong tree!”

            “I hate you all!” The badger mumbled as he lumbered away.

            “I think we got to the root of the problem,” both squirrels said in unison, falling down in laughter soon after.

            Nick carelessly flew through the forest, the trees starring him down menacingly. The tiny fly felt small, even more than usual. But he did not feel threatened, in fact he was really comfortable in the forest. He could hear birds chirping not far off, but he was not worried. He saw two squirrels laughing on a branch, but still he felt no fear. This was a safe place.

            He flew in a wide ark around a particularly large tree, the slight breeze helping him on his way. Then, as if a miracle had chosen to plop itself down right in his path, he found himself face to face with a pear tree.

            “What luck!” he shouted as he sped over to the tree, who’s fruit had matured to the perfect age to eat. Rather impossible considering it was the dead of winter, but Nick had long since given up on logic. It seemed to have gotten lost somewhere. Or was it, STOLEN!!!!! Did this just become a mystery story?

            Nick landed happily on the first pear he saw, digging his fly face into the succulent fruit, slurping up all that he could. His belly was filling fast, the juices of the pear sliding down his face. This was perfect!

            So complete was his focus on the pear that he didn’t hear the footsteps coming up behind him. The careful clip-clop of hooves on the hard ground, or the low groans the creature made as it came upon the pear tree.

            “Yes!” the deer practically shouted to himself. “I freeking LOVE pears, even more than I love tree puns! And look, there’s the perfect pear, right there!” The young stag craned his neck to reach the perfect fruit, and was just able to grip the bottom portion of it with his mouth. Eagerly he pulled down, breaking the pears stem, sending it falling to the ground below.

            It was at this moment that Nick realized he was not alone. He tore himself away from the pear just before it impacted with the ground, saving himself some injury. Still, he did not have time to truly right himself, and crashed into the ground with a rather loud thud.

            “This is going to be soooooooo good,” the deer said as he bent down. “Wait!” he said as he caught sight of the fly that was now stumbling around, trying to find its balance. “Hey fly!” he yelled at the bug. “There is no way I’m letting you touch my pear.”

            “Fine!” Nick shouted back up, annoyed at the sudden change of things. “I’ll just take another one!”

            “No!” the deer replied. “Flies don’t deserve any fruit. You need to be dealt with.”

            “Oh,” Nick mumbled, knowing full well what was to come next. “Please don’t.”

            The deer lifted his front foot into the air above Nick’s head, crushed blades of grass stuck to the hoof by layers of dried on dirt. He had no time to avoid it. With a deafening boom, the deer slammed his foot into the ground, stomping the fly into mush.

            Nick’s body molded to the deer’s hoof, his exoskeleton cracking, and his guts popping once again. Before he lost consciousness, he had time to think, “I’m sycamore of getting stepped on.”

            The deer bent down, happily munching on his new treat, unbothered by any more flies, or the one that was under his foot. Every once in a while he would move, take a step forward or back, but most of Nick’s body remained trapped on the under side of the deer’s hoof, reforming just before it landed, once again crushing him into bug paste.

            Soon the deer finished his meal. He craned his neck to the sky, noticing the thick foliage above, and said, “Guess I should be going. Not much seems to be happening around here.”

            In fact there was a lot happening around there at that very moment, but since this manly entailed a badger trying to climb a tree, rather unsuccessfully, while two squirrels ridiculed him with a seemingly infinite supply of tree related puns, the deer chose not to count it.

            So he scampered away, going deeper into the forest, each well placed step once again crushing the tiny fly. Eventually Nick did fall off, but it had not been a fun ride.

            “Ugh,” Nick groaned as he tried to stand up, his head spinning all around him. He could hear the deer running off in the distance. “Yeah, you better run,” he managed to say before falling over again. “Silly deer, thinking that just because it weighs over a thousand times my weight it could kill me. IMORTALITY BITCH!”

            He was about to close his eyes and allow the cool air to nestle him into unconsciousness when a chirping sound echoed in his ears. Immediately he sat bolt upright, alert and focused.

            “Oh, not again,” he moaned as the chirping sounded again, only closer. He turned around finding a carnal hopping closer and closer to him. He had to admit, it was a beautiful bird, the red of its body standing out amazingly against the green of the forest, and the white of the snow.

            “Well look at this!” the cardinal said happily. “A muddy little fly volunteering to be my lunch.”

            “Wait,” Nick said quickly, moving back as he said it. “I’m no ones lunch!”

            “You’re a bug. That makes you my lunch.”

            “I’m not a bug!” he shouted, starting to get annoyed. He knew he looked like a fly, but damn it he had dignity!

            “You have wings, are small, have a black body, two gross eyes. I’m going out on a limb and saying you’re a fly. And I eat flies. Now stop moving so I can eat you!” The bird dove its beak down at the bug, but Nick was used to dodging things. He moved out of the way just in time.

            “Come on!” he shouted. “Can’t you give a guy a break?”

            “No!” the bird shouted, positioning itself for another strike. It moved quickly, its beak digging into the dirt that Nick had been standing on only moments before. But, Nick is a clumsy fly, and managed to trip yet again.

            “Hah!” the bird said as it stood above the bug. “Got you now!”

            The cardinal was able to engulf Nick’s entire body in one bight. Within a second, the bird had swallowed him down, a small bulge slipping down its throat. With a plop, the fly landed in its belly. The meal had been beaten.

            “Not a bug,” the cardinal said sarcastically. “Well you sure tasted like one!”