The Last Laugh

You can call me Grott, I am of a long line of the great overseers of the woodlands and forests, we used to be many, now I am one. These woods have a history of life, death and rejuvenation that goes back long before man took his first fearful steps into these woods, when he was still cowering inside the caves at the great plateau. I watched as man forced himself to move from these caves as I stood strong and tall and they discovered all of the good that I was hiding from them, trees... flowers... animals.

Over the years, they learned how to hunt, killing the animals that I protected needlessly just for sport or the choicest meat, and destroyed countless trees, including many in my line, to build their arrogant houses that mocks us while they burn my kin for warmth. And it's not even cold.

I watched helplessly as they grew more and more arrogant. When they started cutting our wood, they had a system where they would plant three new trees for each one they took, which was beneficial for the both of us, even the animals. But the three broke down to two, then eventually one for one, and acted like they were doing good by doing that. But now, oh, now they don't even do that.

I still stand in my place, as I did from the time of the beginning. I stand strong, my wood hard and sweet smelling. I watch as they come at me from the great plateau with monstrous metal machines that are almost as big as their houses. Closer and closer they come and the sounds of the monsters they ride make a deafening sound.

Other men come screaming "save these woods" and stand in the way of these monstrous beasts, but the machines don't stop, I could have done something, but it would have been too little too late. The new men were driven over by the machines before I could have acted anyway. I guess these men would kill their own kind so they would have the ability to destroy paradise.

Yes, we were a paradise, but not anymore. All Hell broke loose as these mechanical monsters began to rip through our outer pare-miter, trees, strong trees, my children are torn up out of their roots and discarded.

Anger rages up inside me, as I discover that I'm next. I feel the machines cutting through me until I fall. They don't even use me, and they pour chemicals on me that burns and seeps down into me. They won't even allow me the indignity of turning me into one of their precious houses, they throw a match on me and watch me burn.

My story is not at an end, for I will have the last laugh. All I need to do is shoot out a few well-placed sparks, and my last act will be my greatest. I fire my first spark at one of the houses, it catches, then another, then another, all having drastic effects on the houses.

I spot one last thing, a large truck with a single word written across it; "GASOLINE", as I shoot my final spark, I hit a small puddle that was being fed by just a trickle of the gasoline from the tank. I am prepared for what is to come next, these men they are not.

The tank explodes spewing fiery gasoline everywhere killing all of the arrogant men that took more from the woods than they should have. As I lay there burning away, I spot a seed, a single seed. I bury it deep in the ground, with one final laugh; for while I am up here burning away, the seed is being nourished by the ground below.

It may take a while, but that single seed, along with other seeds from other plant life will survive and grow and finally rebuild these woods until it's bigger and stronger, and these men who tried to destroy our paradise will be nothing but a memory, a distant memory.