They left the sheathed carcasses out on the sidewalk, limbs pressing against the clouded plastic, suggesting that death had not completely set in. Nobody seemed to mind. They walked around the bags as if nothing was amiss. How they got there, nobody knew for sure. But this was not an isolated incident. One nearly had to glance down the street to find other former loved ones baking in the sun. And they remained there for weeks. Like everyone, I cringed with disgust as I observed the various stages of decomposition. And each time I passed by these bags of death, the same thought came to mind: “Doesn’t anyone know how to recycle their damn Christmas trees?” Happy New Year, you lazy, selfish pukes.
you didn’t fool me for a minute.
but it was still a great piece. :)
For a minute there, I thought you were down in Sri Lanka. But then I thought, nah. He jokes alot. And sure enough, you were talking about trees. Man!! You are good!! You gotta stop. :)
before Christmas, I count the number of trees sailing happily along on the tops of cars, rushing off to be decorated. After Christmas, I count the aforementioned bags. Its such a depressing reminder that the holidays are OVER. unless you hate the holidays. then its a happy reminder.
I just don’t like how everyone has to have a live Christmas tree, but doesn’t care what happens to it after they’re through with it. In fact, I wrote a very similar post before. I’m surprised nobody called me on it.
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