Yesterday, I was minding my own business when I started to smell gasoline in the house. OK, that’s a lie. I wasn’t really minding my own business, but the smell part is true. Since we don’t have any oil or gas lines coming in, I wrote it off as one of Goblin Foo’s intestinal antics. But it turned out that there was a fuel leak after all. A truck had come and started pumping heating oil into my neighbors’ house, which is all well and good, except that, their furnace having been converted to natural gas years before, it was unprepared to receive it. Oil spilled all over their basement, coating their possessions, and filling their house with toxic fumes.

When I found out about this, I felt suitably bad for them, but I did hear the rustling of leafy laughter coming from the back yard.

Don’t mess with the weed tree.