Today in F-You Nature: Tree Sap
When I was a kid, there was a big-ass tree next to my house, and it was the perfect climbing tree. It was a rarity for Arizonan neighborhood trees, because it didn’t have massive thorns jutting out of it like the pubes on some demons scrotum, like most of the trees in Tucson do. (Yes, trees. Not the cacti. The trees also have huge thorns on them. Look it up if you don’t believe me, dick) It had just the amount of large branches for me to use to hoist myself up onto the thick top branches about 15 feet up, where I would sit for hours and enjoy the shade from the hot Tucson sun. I used that tree as a refuge from everything that sucked when I was a kid, and I loved it. Until one fateful day, my neighbor Alan came by and told me something badass was happening – probably that he got to the last level of “Kung Fu” on his NES. That black-clad ninja was a real bitch. Anyways, for some reason that I don’t recall, I was stoked, and began my descent of the tree. And then I touched the tree sap. At first I was disturbed because I thought I put my hand in some terribly sticky bird diarrhea, and it was grossing me out. Like a bird with Crohn’s disease or something. After I got a better look though, I realized it was coming out of the tree. I guess my investigation was taking too long, because around that time, Alan threw a rock at me and knocked me out of the tree. I remember falling for what seemed like a long time, and then I landed awkwardly on my arm and broke it. Yes, Alan is a giant vagina, but I still blame the tree sap for my broken arm.
Tree sap doesn’t seem like much of a big deal, it’s not an active threat of nature. It’s more like Mother Nature’s passive “fuck you”, and I hate it with a burning passion felt deep within my soul. And loins. And my right arm when it’s raining out. Have you ever gotten tree sap on your car? It’s like Winnie the Pooh with a bloody dick jizzed on the hood of your car with his honey jizz. You can’t get that shit off, unless you have about $200 to spare. Then you can take your car to some douche-faced local Italian car detailer that wears dirty wife beaters and sweats something that smells like a mixture of pepperoni and baby tears, and have him overcharge you to get it off. And don’t even think that you can just move your car out from under the tree that’s dripping its shit all over your car – the fucking wind can blow sap onto your car too. Yeah, enjoy yourself. Have you ever gotten tree sap on your hands? It doesn’t matter how much you wash that shit, nothing created by man is strong enough to get it off of your skin. You basically have to deal with dead bugs and hair being stuck on your hands until your skin exfoliates itself enough that the sap is gone. And then you’re still haunted by nightmares of your hand being stuck to your face when you wake up in the morning. And pray to God that it’s not your masturbating hand that’s all sapped up, you don’t even want to get me started on that.
It’s true that one of the 3 wise men that was bringing Jesus frankincense back in the day, which I guess makes tree sap holy or something to some people. But really, that’s a dick gift. No one, especially a baby, needs fucking tree sap in a box. Jesus would’ve been royally (haha) pissed had he been old enough and smart enough to know what that jerk was bringing him. Also, if it wasn’t for tree sap, that KFC “Colonel” looking dingleberry wouldn’t have been able to create Jurassic Park. We all know what a bunch of bullshit that ended up being.
Fuck you, nature. (PS- Thanks for the great idea, Amy!)