When you drop a tree once, that would be a tree dropping, and doing it more than once would result in multiple tree droppings. When those regrettable event(s) have already happened, anything following would thus be the tail of tree droppings.
We can dispense with the tragedy part up-front. This hurt like flaming hell when it happened but that was twenty years ago and the mind can't remember pain. It can remember it happened but not what it felt like. All that remains is the story and hopefully you will find it amusing.
Before you get too tickled with the idea the mind can't remember pain, it can't remember pleasure either. It can remember it liked something but not what it felt like. The mechanism is brilliant as it keeps you coming back to make babies. Life likes it when you make babies.
The Mystery Lady and I didn't want to wait twenty years for some twig to even start resembling a real tree so we found a really nice one at a nursery. It was a variety of maple as they give excellent shade and great colors in the Fall. It was also huge and the only way to get it home was to ask the nursery to deliver it on a truck. The date and time were set and off we went.
When the day arrived, the nursery sent a truck equipped with a lift gate to lower the tree to the ground. They neglected, however, to send enough people to unload. There's one old guy driving the truck and they sent no-one with him so he asked me to help.
He wasn't asking anything too complicated for a programmer to handle (e.g. fill a glass of water without analyzing the procedure) so I got up there on the back of the truck with him. The tree was wheeled onto the lift gate to lower it and he stepped out to one side of it to ride the gate down. I stepped to the other side of the tree to join him.
That wasn't one of the better moves I ever made. There was a bang behind me and that side of the lift gate dropped instantly. All in all, it would have been better if the lift gate was under my foot rather than on it but, regrettably, this was not the case. It also would have been better if the tree were not still on it but regrettably, that also was not the case. In my case, I could see nothing but the lift gate and assumed that which was below it must be one fiercely flattened foot as I don't know what it felt like but I know there was a lot of it.
There was turmoil around me and this quickly became a panic as they realized that has got to be one fiercely flattened foot under there. What should I do, what should I do.
There are moments in life in which one savors a cool glass of lemonade on a hot summer day, the gentle peace after making love, or simply standing there listening to people screaming what should I do while inside you are screaming back, "Could you start by getting this fucking thing off my foot?"
In due time they found a way to get the tree off the gate and thus it endured the second dropping of the day. When they got the gate off my foot, it was highly surprising to see it didn't look all that wrecked. Looking at it and walking on it were not quite the same thing but I did manage to stumble over to the steps by the driveway and sat there. I'm fairly sure I didn't say anything the entire time or even make a sound, for that matter.
Well, this is unusual.
The above works for just about anything but, again regrettably, this was not one of them. There really isn't much preparation for a tree falling on your feet. The habit of trees is typically to be on the ground already so there are relatively few signs of when a tree is likely to do it, assuming other trees do it as well.
The beauty part is that it didn't do much damage. After all, the emergency room doctor who saw me considered the best move to be a walking cast for the foot and some pain pills for some future addiction. There was one small problem with this approach: this guy was as qualified to practice medicine as Peewee Herman is qualified to sing opera.
The next doctor, one actually qualified this time, ordered immediate surgery and it took a couple of years to stick the bits back together again but the foot is, in fact, still there and, also in fact, does, more or less, work.
And, thus, we come to the end of the tail of the tree droppings. If there is a moral to the story, it has not thus far been revealed.
However, there is one piece of advice you may consider germane: if you drop a tree on one foot, it is probably best if you do not subsequently drop a motorcycle on the other one.
My feet hate me but I suspect you have already deduced that.
We can dispense with the tragedy part up-front. This hurt like flaming hell when it happened but that was twenty years ago and the mind can't remember pain. It can remember it happened but not what it felt like. All that remains is the story and hopefully you will find it amusing.
Before you get too tickled with the idea the mind can't remember pain, it can't remember pleasure either. It can remember it liked something but not what it felt like. The mechanism is brilliant as it keeps you coming back to make babies. Life likes it when you make babies.
The Mystery Lady and I didn't want to wait twenty years for some twig to even start resembling a real tree so we found a really nice one at a nursery. It was a variety of maple as they give excellent shade and great colors in the Fall. It was also huge and the only way to get it home was to ask the nursery to deliver it on a truck. The date and time were set and off we went.
When the day arrived, the nursery sent a truck equipped with a lift gate to lower the tree to the ground. They neglected, however, to send enough people to unload. There's one old guy driving the truck and they sent no-one with him so he asked me to help.
He wasn't asking anything too complicated for a programmer to handle (e.g. fill a glass of water without analyzing the procedure) so I got up there on the back of the truck with him. The tree was wheeled onto the lift gate to lower it and he stepped out to one side of it to ride the gate down. I stepped to the other side of the tree to join him.
That wasn't one of the better moves I ever made. There was a bang behind me and that side of the lift gate dropped instantly. All in all, it would have been better if the lift gate was under my foot rather than on it but, regrettably, this was not the case. It also would have been better if the tree were not still on it but regrettably, that also was not the case. In my case, I could see nothing but the lift gate and assumed that which was below it must be one fiercely flattened foot as I don't know what it felt like but I know there was a lot of it.
There was turmoil around me and this quickly became a panic as they realized that has got to be one fiercely flattened foot under there. What should I do, what should I do.
There are moments in life in which one savors a cool glass of lemonade on a hot summer day, the gentle peace after making love, or simply standing there listening to people screaming what should I do while inside you are screaming back, "Could you start by getting this fucking thing off my foot?"
In due time they found a way to get the tree off the gate and thus it endured the second dropping of the day. When they got the gate off my foot, it was highly surprising to see it didn't look all that wrecked. Looking at it and walking on it were not quite the same thing but I did manage to stumble over to the steps by the driveway and sat there. I'm fairly sure I didn't say anything the entire time or even make a sound, for that matter.
Well, this is unusual.
The above works for just about anything but, again regrettably, this was not one of them. There really isn't much preparation for a tree falling on your feet. The habit of trees is typically to be on the ground already so there are relatively few signs of when a tree is likely to do it, assuming other trees do it as well.
The beauty part is that it didn't do much damage. After all, the emergency room doctor who saw me considered the best move to be a walking cast for the foot and some pain pills for some future addiction. There was one small problem with this approach: this guy was as qualified to practice medicine as Peewee Herman is qualified to sing opera.
The next doctor, one actually qualified this time, ordered immediate surgery and it took a couple of years to stick the bits back together again but the foot is, in fact, still there and, also in fact, does, more or less, work.
And, thus, we come to the end of the tail of the tree droppings. If there is a moral to the story, it has not thus far been revealed.
However, there is one piece of advice you may consider germane: if you drop a tree on one foot, it is probably best if you do not subsequently drop a motorcycle on the other one.
My feet hate me but I suspect you have already deduced that.
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