Words of the Constant
Lumpy Evergreen
What a waste of wood.
I feel like I could have prevented that.
Take that, nature!
This sad tree has no cones.
Combustion at work.
Apt to become air particulate at the first stiff breeze.
The cross section of a tree I have cleaved.
It must undergo some kind of spontaneous generation.
That's not cool.
He's a burnout.
Cut down in its prime.
Looks like the diet version.
Alarming!
Well that's done.
It's been razed.
Rather pathetic looking.
Au revoir, tree.
Crisp, no?
Sliced!
A coneless arbre.
The wood's ablaze!
Loge took that one.
Chopped by the warrior of the woods!
A good, sturdy tree.
Oops.
Dust to dust.
I put it out of its misery.
It looks sickly.
What a senseless waste of firewood.
Only we can prevent forest fires.
Got you good, tree!
A dying breed.
It's burning brightly.
Used up and done for.
Everything dies.
Its cycle of life is ending.
That looks... alarming.
I may be wrong, but I don't think it'll recover from that.
Nothing personal, tree. I needed the wood.
Needs is a little love. And pinecones.
The tree is burning.
A carbonized tree.
It has been harvested.
This genus seems to lack reproductive capabilities.
'TIS FWOOSHING
FWOOSH'D TREE
'TIS CHOPT
'TIS SAD
YES! BURN!
I wish it was still burning.