Eric had a Twinkie for breakfast. He brushed his teeth and rinsed his toothbrush in alcohol - the tapwater wasn't safe; nothing natural was - before going to check on Trudy. Her face was as high as his second-story window now.
"Any better?" he asked.
Trudy blinked up at him. "It's wonderful, Eric. It always has been." She yawned prettily, but did not move; her arms were completely covered in bark, branching far overhead. "Why won't you join us? We're all one again, one with the Earth."
Eric narrowed his eyes. "I'm running low on Twinkies," he said, and slammed the window.
The Shoveller Of Widdecombe Ditch (Trad.)
9 hours ago