Elder Mother

“What ya do’en?” asked the wee bit of a man sitting on the fence as Stanly approached.

“I’m cutting that old tree down. It blocks my view of nature,” the man replied.

“Are you mad? You know what that tree is and who lives there,” questioned the little man.

“No, and I don’t care. The council permitted me to cut it down, so that is what I mean to do,” retorted the man.

“So you have a piece of paper, and now you’re king of the world, eh?”

“Yes. Um, what did you mean lives there? Is this someone’s house?” asked Stanly.

“In a manner of speaking, but give it no thought. You have a piece of paper, so go ahead and do as you will,” chuckled the little man.

“I don’t see a door or windows, so who lives here?” enquired Stanly.

“Well, my good man, this tree is the home of the Elder Mother. If I were you, I’d take that axe and piece of paper home and enjoy a nice cup of tea,” said the wee man.

“Oh, so you’re an eco-freak telling me what to do. You listen to me. I am climbing over the fence and cutting down your fairy lady’s house, and there is nothing you can do about it,” snapped Stanly.

“Do you have fire insurance on your domicile by chance?” asked the wee man.

Well, of course. If you threaten me, I’ll call the authorities straight away,” said Stanly.

“No, no, I do hope the Elder Mother chooses a different method than usual,” said the little man.

“I can handle a little old lady,” said Stanly as he climbed over the fence.

After clearing the brush from the tree’s base, Stanly drew back and took a heavy swing with his axe.

The air exploded with a scream of pain that cut to the bone. “Ok, stop playing your tricks, you eco bums. I’m not falling for it,” said Stanly.

“Is that smoke I smell? She’s using her tried and true method today,” chuckled the wee man.

Stanly drew back his axe and brought it against the trunk with all his might. The earth shook, and the scream was deafening.

“I said stop fooling around, is that smoke I smell,” said Stanly.

“I did warn you, lad. I’d call the fire service if you wish to have a home. There’s no telling what she’ll do,” the little man said to Stanly.

“My house is burning! No! Not my house,” cried Stanly as he rushed home.

“Seems they never learn. Let’s see about mending the Elder Mother’s home,” said the wee man, pulling a tin of salve from his pocket and rubbing it into the axe marks.