You are enjoying a nice walk on a beautiful day. You amble along at a pace best described as a “mosey”, no particular destination in mind. Birds sing from the trees around you. Though the early summer heat coaxes a light coat of sweat from your pores, a gentle breeze blows from the south, stirring a soothing symphony of rustling leaves and cooling your face.
“Psst. Hey kid,” you hear from above you.
You look up to see nothing but the sunshine filtering through the whispering leaves of a live oak.
Just before you’re about to resume your walk, an oddly-straight branch shakes, seemingly of its own accord.
“Hey. Yeah, you, kid,” you hear in concert with the shaking limb. “Wanna buy some drugs?”
Though still startled, you clearly remember your parents’ warnings when encountering a situation like this. Not the talking tree, of course, the drugs. You shake your head in the negative, turn and begin to walk back home.
“Don’t let me see you ‘round here again, kid!” the limb shouts after you. “I’ll gut you like a fish! You hear me, you little bitch? I’ll cut you good!”
You look back long enough to see the branch has somehow produced a small pocket knife, which hangs loosely from between two twigs near its terminus.