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How does the Twitterati feel about live-tweeting a tree removal? Because we just watched a hungover dude gag himself to barf behind the truck and then pound a monster energy.
Well, three gentlemen are presently smoking cigarettes in the yard. A tree like this one (medium sized, dead) really demands a team of men bear witness, you see.
Probably wrong to assume those are steel-toed moccasins. They do go good with cargo pants though.
A beat-up utility van pulls up. Parks facing the wrong way. Two gentlemen in sweatpants emerge. Stand in the yard smoking. They must be from corporate.
The tree is on the property line between houses. Barely room for the truck. Steady downpour. Muddy ruts. Bated toddler breath for the chainsaw man in the cherry picker. Limbs lumber down more than anything else in the world can lumber. The tree is gone.
We inspect. Sawdust still warm. Squirrels confused. Crows cry out from afar. Eight cigarette butts tell the tale.
Lo, a stump. Humble word for the years recorded there. Our concentric life.
