Duboy lived in the pines. On weekends, he sat on his patio and drank chilled white wine. Until they burned down.
Difficult to cut down would have been the twisted old oak. And Woodcutter Lopus considered it good for nothing. His wife thought the same of him.
Daniel de Luxe, after performing a horrible deed, buried the razor blade in his back yard. It grew into a tree. Every time a bird lands on it, it gets sliced in two.
Little Peter ate an apple, seeds and all. That was long ago. Now big Peter lies there, with a tree growing from his ear.
Tied to the trunk, Marcus struggled to free himself. It was no use. Even vultures have their lucky days.
The birch was romantic and fell in love with some ivy. Slowly the parasite climbed up its trunk. Romantic indeed was the birch, and now its skeleton is sheathed in green.
Mr. Korinthian sat down on the patio of the Chez Wanda and ordered his meal. While the waiter was bringing the first course, a dozen delicious oysters on the half shell, a large tree fell, crushing the life out of that latter and sending the shellfish flying.
“Well, that fellow certainly won’t be getting a tip,” Korinthian said with annoyance, as he watched a cat approach the corpse.