Tree Doctor

Outside of my window are two trees that look like shit.

I dated a tree doctor for a bit over the summer and I wanted to see him work his magic. He put a wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth and got down to business.

He went to a branch, snapped a twig or two, and dug around the roots.

“These trees aren’t very healthy. They’re not getting enough water. You can tell from the way the branches snap, and the dirt around the base of the tree seems too arid.”

I’m looking at the trees. One still has its red leaves of autumn, the other barely has any leaves.

Son of a bitch actually knew what he was doing.

BEHOLD! The fucked tree! No amount of rain can save it now.

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