A Christmas Treenapping

High on a hill in the land of Green Mountains was a farm specializing in Christmas trees. The trees varied in age from saplings to fifteen years except for one, the wise old Maple tree, who grumpily boasted to be over 100 years old.

Among the many trees on the sprawling farm were two seven-year-old fir trees, Doug and Frasier. They were the best of friends. Every day Doug would ask Frasier “How are you today?” And Frasier would respond “I’m very well, how are you?” To which Doug would reply “I’m fantastic.” Doug and Frasier then would go back to focusing on photosynthesis, growing taller and sweating sap from the exertion of it all.

It was the beginning of spring; the days were getting longer, and the ground was warming up which meant two things: the human would be by soon to lay down mulch and the maple tree would start complaining.

“Ow,” grumbled the maple tree.

The human had just tapped it and syrup slowly poured into a container at the base of the tree.

“They’re stealing my sap,” moaned the maple tree. “For the love of god, why can’t they leave me alone?”

“Why do they take your sap?” asked Frasier.

“They adorn their Break Fast of Pan Cakes and Sauce Age with my life’s blood,” lamented the maple tree.

“Why don’t they take ours?” asked Doug.

“The humans have other plans for you,” said the maple tree in a menacing tone.

“That sounds exciting,” said Doug.

“No, it doesn’t,” replied Frasier.

Sure enough, a few days later the human arrived and spread the mulch around Frasier’s trunk and his roots tingled with anticipation. He could grow higher and stronger now, maybe even produce some new branches.

“Isn’t spring grand?” Frasier asked Doug.

“It is an exciting time,” reflected Doug.

And then the two went back to focusing on photosynthesis, growing taller and sweating sap from the exertion of it all.

Spring turned to summer and summer into fall. During autumn, Doug and Frasier watched the other trees across the valley from them as their leaves fell off, leaving them naked.

“Stupid naked trees,” laughed Doug and Frasier, looking at the bare forest across from them.

One chilly December day, a man approached Frasier with a saw.

“How’s it going Frasier?” asked Doug.

“I’m not too sure,” answered Frasier.

“Why is that?” asked Doug.

“OH MY GOD, I’M BEING CUT DOWN. IT HURTS. DOUG. IT HURTS!” screamed Frasier.

“Hang in there, Frasier.”

“I’M FALLING!” screamed Frasier.

“Your time has come,” lamented the maple tree.

“WHAT TIME?” asked Frasier.

“Time to leave the Farm,” said the maple tree.

The human encased Frasier in some netting.

“I’M BEING TIED UP!” screamed Frasier.

“You’re being treenapped,” said the maple tree.

“TREENAPPED? Where are they taking me? Asked Frasier.

“Nobody knows,” Said the maple tree.

“WHY? “Asked Frasier.

“How come nobody knows?” Asked Doug.

“Because nobody returns,” said the maple tree menacingly. “Every year they take some trees and every year they take my life’s blood. Every year it’s the same.”

“Bye Frasier! Have a great adventure!” said Doug.

The human tossed Frasier onto a flatbed truck full of other bound trees like the Balsam Fir, Scotch Pine, and Colorado Blue Spruce. It was claustrophobic. Frasier couldn’t feel the sun and found it difficult to breathe.

“I’m scared,” said the Balsam Fir.

“Where are we going?” asked the Scotch Pine.

“Yippie Kay Yay,” mumbled the Colorado Spruce.

“I miss Doug,” sobbed Frasier.

Hours later they arrived in Brook Land where the hills were covered with stone buildings and paved streets instead of trees and dirt roads. Frasier and his kind were unceremoniously tossed from the truck to the hard pavement then propped up against the side of a building.

“What’s happening now?” asked Frasier.

“We’re on display for sale,” said a small potted fir tree with a red bow.

“What?”

“The humans will sell us to other humans who will take us to their home for a celebration called Christ Mash.

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad,” said the Colorado Spruce.

When humans walked by, all the trees began to beg to take them home, give them water, and one by one, they were sold and taken home.

Frasier was one of the few ones left on a snowy afternoon. He felt each and everyone of his needles on the verge of falling off if he didn’t get water soon and who would want a bare tree for Christ Mash?

A little human stopped in front of him wearing a blue parka.

“Please take me home, please take me home,” begged Frasier.

“I like this one!” the little human exclaimed.

“It’s a little short,” replied the bigger human holding hands with the little human.

“This one!” the little human exclaimed.

“Okay, okay,” the bigger human acquiesced. Paper was transferred between bigger humans and Frasier was hoisted triumphantly onto the bigger human’s shoulders and carried home.

Upon arriving in the cozy abode the base of his trunk was inserted into a bowl and vice like grips were screwed into his body like a medieval torture device.

“What is this? I thought they wanted me?”

The pain quickly faded as water was poured into the bowl and Frasier drank greedily. He had been thirsty for a week. He felt the needles on his branches restore, and felt more awake.

Then the humans approached him with balls and lights and stars and started placing them on him. At first he was confused, but as the decorations did not hurt him, he gave in and began to feel good about the attention he was receiving and the way he was dressed. More water was added to the bowl and Frasier drank again.

After the little human crowned him with an angel, boxes of varying sizes were laid below him. Frasier felt special. He had a home, he had water, he had decorations… he had an angel. Then they began to sing… in German.

“Why are they singing at me? I don’t understand. What is a Tannenbaum?”

The following day everyone gathered around him. They tore paper off the boxes of varying sizes and opened things that made the humans, little and big, smile and weep, laugh and hug.

And then, he was forgotten. There was no more water, his needles began to fall and then, one day, the humans took off the decorations. He felt naked now and felt shame at making fun of the trees across the valley where he grew up. Adding insult to injury, he was tossed on the sidewalk, half bare with a few strands of tinsel clinging to him.

Frasier shed more needles in the cold for a few days until another human picked him up and tossed him into a truck with other sad and dehydrated trees.

“I felt so special,” said the Colorado Spruce.

“So did I,” said Frasier.

They traveled together until they reached a garden where they were unloaded. Frasier smelled something familiar. Mulch. It reminded him of spring, and he wanted so much to return to the farm and his best friend Doug and the complaining maple tree and then his thoughts were interrupted by the sound…

 of a woodchipper.

Andy Heidel is the author of Desperate Moon which received praise from Harlan Ellison and Ray Bradbury. He is also the author of The Cocktail Guide to the Galaxy. He lives in Brooklyn, NY with his fiancé and two cats Gin and Tonic.