I was on my way back to one coast from the other. Which is which is not important.
I saw a golden tree in the desert, and I knew I had to click inspect.
I found an unofficial exit from the interstate and hid my garbage truck under the overpass. Was it over the underpass? Irrelephant.
After surveying the fence line up and down, it was determined that this was probably not allied land. This fence was most likely put in the middle of Nowhere, Nowhere, to keep buffalo off the interstate. If they were to begin commuting, it might mean the end of public transportation as we know it.
Obtaining a partly biodegraded board, having verified it was organic, I used it to protect my soft parts from the barbed wire. I kept it as a shield against wandering mesquite.
Arriving at the abandoned reservoir serving as a gallery for this ancient tree, I saw that there was no prize committee, as I had hoped. I decided to make the best of it.
I sat about 40 feet away. Far enough to see the whole thing at once, and in the off-chance I might need a running start. I looked at it. It looked at me. I saw no use for the very large, broken branch it offered. That might not be mine. Then I closed my eyes and looked at it.
This unique, rare golden tree, the only one for as far as the eye could see for hours on the interstate, let alone sparkling like a glass of piss on the horizon, wanted to know if I was eternally dank. I thought about it. I looked at the blood trickling from the orchestra of mesquite on my arm. I will always be blood majick. It's not something you can delete from your profile.
Then I went home and signed up for the web page.
