Mixed Messages

At the risk of sounding paranoid, I'm getting...well, paranoid again.

I thought I had a new home here. The past week has been glorious; everyone pays attention to me, I feel important again, even the creatures in the house haven't been as annoying as usual. The one exception is the cat, who keeps drinking from my water supply. I drip sap in there as often as possible. Hey, it's the small victories that make life worth living.

And speaking of living, I'm starting to wonder if these people plan on keeping me around after all. I keep hearing rumblings and bits of conversation like, "when that tree's gone..." and "well, I won't have to crawl under there and clean much longer" and the like.

I'm hoping they have a plan to replant me. I can't imagine that they'd just let me go after all the care they've lavished on me. Seriously, they wouldn't do that...

...would they?

What A Day

Well, for the first time since I arrived here, I felt really great yesterday.

I finally figured out what all this stuff is about, or at least I think I understand. As best I can tell, someone named "Santa Claus" puts a bunch of gifts under my branches, then a whole boatload of people come over, everyone eats an amazing amount of food, more gifts are exchanged, then the little people play something called "Guitar Hero" until everyone goes to bed.

What a strange custom.

But you know, it was cool, because I was the complete center of attention all day! I was the protector of the family's gifts, and then they gathered around me in the morning, all excited about the wrapped presents (although how anyone can muster up enthusiasm for a box of something called "chocolate" is beyond my comprehension). Later in the day, more people arrived and they all commented on how beautiful I looked. I felt important again!

And here's the best part...there's been no discussion about getting rid of me. I was really worried about losing so many needles, but you know, I was getting a bit heavy and needed to lose a few pounds anyway! So I'm kind of hoping that they'll be able to stem (no pun intended) any further damage, and maybe I'll be able to stay.

At least I have some hope and optimism. What a great day.

You Won't Believe This One

There's no end to what these freaks will do.

As an evergreen, I do what all good evergreens do. I attempt to propagate my species through the use of unique reproductive techniques. In my case, this process includes the judicious use of a seed pod known to the humans as a "pine cone".

Before I was so ruthlessly removed from my home, I prepared several of these seed pods, which hung from my upper branches. Eventually, it was my plan to drop them in the hope that one or more would spawn my progeny.

So what do these disgusting creatures do?

They picked off my "pine cones" and have them displayed on their fireplace mantle!

Oh, come on! You have to see the indignity in this! I mean, think about it. How would you like to have your reproductive material displayed in a glass for everyone to oooh and aaah over?

It's a good thing I have virtually no energy left. Eventually I suppose I'll stop caring. Whatever end I'm going to face, it will be a relief.

In My Absence

I haven't written because I've been plotting my escape.

I'd have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for those meddling kids! For the past few days, I've noticed that my trunk was just slightly loose. Not loose enough to be comfortable--no, my cruel captors saw to that, you can count on it--but with just enough play that I thought it might be possible to wiggle free.

So I started leaning.

Oh, I put every ounce of energy I had into it. Whenever they weren't looking, I'd force my remaining sap over to one side in an effort to assist gravity. I figured if I could just fall the right way, I could roll out the front door on my way to freedom!

But my plans were thwarted.

Last night, they had guests over, and as they were preening me like some show dog that needed to be brushed before her appearance in front of the judge, they noticed that I wasn't standing up quite as straight as usual. One of them tightened up my screws, then wrapped a wire--A FREAKING WIRE!--around my trunk and tied me to a nearby door frame. He hid it really well, too, so there's not even the remote possibility that someone will notice this hideous constraint, this impediment to my freedom, these horrific chains that bind me to the horror that has become my life!

So here I stand. I put every ounce of energy I had into that escape plan. I'm weakening by the day, and there's no chance that wire's going to give. I guess I'm here for the duration.

Traditions, Shmaditions

Apparently they do this every year.

Yep. Last night they went up to something called an "attic" and brought down boxes upon boxes of junk. Then, they proceeded to hang these baubles all over my branches.

I'm telling you, there's just no end to the humiliation!

I'm now festooned with strands of white lights and every sort of gaudy holiday decor you can possibly imagine, from hand-blown glass "ornaments" to children's macaroni art to hand-painted ceramics to jingly bells and some things that are just impossible for me to describe. And don't get me going on what they did to that poor angel on my top limb. I'm sorry, but I thought the phrase "stick it up your a**" was just a figure of speech.

But it gets worse.

They have a creature.

They call it a "cat". I remember seeing these things in my old home, but they weren't that common. This one, though, is particularly annoying. To start with, it's a mutant, with seven toes on its grubby little feet. Oh, and believe me, it puts those seven toes to use. It's constantly batting at my lower branches like I'm its personal chew-toy.

So what do these creeps do? Cordon off the cat to protect my delicate needles? Lock it away in a room somewhere? No! They actually put soft ornaments on my bottom branches so that the evil one can have something to play with! What is wrong with these people?

But I had my revenge. As these people were poking and prodding and hanging countless pounds of ornamentation on my ever-weakening limbs, I made sure I poked back. There are some seriously irritated hands in this house this morning.

It's not much, but it's the best I can do.

The Stand

They have me mounted.

I never saw it coming. After being tied to the top of their moving monstrosity filled with my human torturers, I wound up on a strange street in front of a large structure they call "home". Surely, I thought, they would at least attempt to replant me. I looked around for a friendly face, but all I saw was a large oak tree and a Japanese Maple. Nothing but wimpy, leaf-losing deciduous trees all around me. I knew I was a goner.

They lifted me off the minivan, and tossed me on the sidewalk. Was I to die here? Was this really the end? An anonymous passing on a lonely city street?

Oh, that would have been a relief.

The truth was much, much worse. They put me in something called a "tree stand". Apparently, I'm supposed to be a prop for their winter celebration. I'm still trying to observe and learn all the details of their strange customs, but as near as I can gather so far, my job is to sit in the corner of their sterile human home and they pretend that a tree suddenly grew out of nowhere in the middle of their living room. Really. I couldn't have made this up if I tried.

To accomplish this, they forced me into the aforementioned "tree stand". Since these self-centered delinquents had already cut off my roots, I had no way of supporting myself in an upright position, so they used this contraption to accomplish that task. Oh, the pain! First, they cut off even more of my lower limbs because I wouldn't fit! What kind of horror would I be subjected to next?

It didn't take long to find out. A total of eight screws dug into the base of my trunk as they attached this heinous device. Then they attempted to stand me upright, but I cleverly leaned to the left, hoping to thwart their nefarious plans. It was to no avail; this only increased their determination, and they adjusted me, screwing tighter and tighter and tighter until finally I gave in.

Then and only then did they drag me through the door and into their home.

At last, they loosed the bounds that held me so tightly, and I released my branches in a manner reminiscent of a stripper taking off her bra (I've been watching a lot of HBO). I spread out gloriously, waiting for the sun to filter through my thousands of needles once again.

But the only light in here is artificial. The only warmth is from a furnace.

Whatever fate awaited me, I knew it wouldn't be good. At least there was the small compensation of a minor allotment of water, carelessly poured into my "tree stand" by the owner of the home, who cursed my branches as he crawled underneath me to ease my dehydration. Which brings me to my next point...since my roots have been unceremoniously cut from the rest of me, I'm having a hard time concentrating. I feel weak, thirsty, and somewhat ill.

This can't be good.

OK, OK...I'm A Bit Calmer Now

Apparently, this was my destiny.

Seriously! Can you believe this? I heard them talking about it during something called "breakfast" this morning. It turns out the "farm" I lived on was there strictly to raise and cut down trees! Who ever heard of such a thing? I gave those people 20 years of my life, and this is how they reward me?

It's the indignity of it all. First, they amputated my roots...oh, the pain! I could feel the sap dripping over the open wound. These were the same people that cared for me so delicately over the years--feeding me, watering me, gently trimming my branches to give me that perfect triangle shape that was the envy of all the other trees in the forest. Oh, how they betrayed me!

That was bad enough, but look at this contraption they put me through!



Now I know how Britney Spears' butt felt when she tried to squeeze into those pants she wore at the VMAs.

Then, in yet another insult to my pride, they strapped me to the top of something called a "minivan" as if I was some common field-dressed game animal, and drove me to their home.


I can't even talk about what happened next. Maybe tomorrow.