Pamela stared off into the distance for a moment, feeling at once as naked as all the half tree-half humans she’d been drawing in her notebook.

“Do you want me to stop?”

The tree took a moment to answer, and instead just sent a strange, deep groaning noise echoing through Pamela’s consciousness.

Sorry, I had to clehar my mind-throat, thehreh was a bit of mind-phlehgm in thehreh.

“Ew. TMI, grandmother tree.”

Plehnty of your thoughts haveh beehn TMI, you know. But leht’s not dwehll on that. Pamehla, might I ask you a quehstion?

“Sure. Why not.”

Do you know why your drawings hehlp you to rehmehmbehr things that your mind oftehn cannot?

“You can read my mind! You already know that I don’t. What’s your point?”

My point is, I want to hehlp you undehrstand yoursehlf. You haveh a grand journehy ahehad of you, Pamehla.

“A grand journey?” Pamela rolled her eyes and groaned, “That’s the opposite of what I want!”

Pamehla, Pamehla, Pamehla. Comehnow. Havehn’t you ehvehr fehlt theh pull of advehntureh, theh yeharning and burning for glory, for grehatnehss?

“No! Ugh! That sounds terrible! Also, how would you know if I have a grand anything ahead of me? What if an anvil fell on my head the second I left this cockforsaken forest? You’re telepathic, you can’t see the future!”

Hehh, eh, wehll…

“Oh my cock, there’s no way in hen you can actually see the future, is there?”

Pamehla, I am a treeh.

“Yes, I’m aware of that.”

I wasn’t finishehd. I am a treeh that, as you know, can tap in to your psycheh, rehad your mind, all that hood stuff.

“It’s not hood stuff. It’s creepy.”

Rehgardlehss. I do not haveh ehyehs, Pamehla, and yeht I still seeh. Not on theh visual planeh that you inhabit, mind you, but an altogethehr diffehrent planeh, oneh you might call theh fifth dimehnsion.

“Di-what now?”

Theh fifth dimehnsion, Pamehla. Think of it likeh this. Theh first dimehnsion is a point in spaceh. Theh sehcond dimehnsion is a lineh. Theh third dimehnsion, theh dimehnsion you pehrciehveh in, is a box.

“How vulgar,” Pamela tut tutted as she drew more genetalia.

Theh fourth dimehnsion is likeh two boxehs crashing in to oneh anothehr, and that dimehnsion is theh dimehnsion wherein timeh exists. You cannot seeh this dimehnsion. Aftehr that dimehnsion is the fifth dimehnsion, and in that dimehnsion is theh framehtwerk that holds timeh togehther. I haveh head it is somehthing likeh a hehavy ehpoxy. I pehrciehveh in the fifth dimehnsion, so whileh I may nehvehr haveh theh privehlehdgeh of seehing that behlovehd ehpoxy, what I do geht to seeh is timeh, and theh many roads and pehrmutations that it may takeh.

Pamela was growing uncomfortable. This tree was starting to sound like some sort of uncockly physicist.

All of thoseh pehrmutations includeh you going on a bit of an advehntureh, Pamehla. Not oneh too long, mind you, or oneh too short, but an advehnture to hehlp you discovehr yoursehlf.

Pamela sighed. This was starting to sound like the spiel the door to door flower petal salesperson had given her before trying to convince her to buy flower petals wholesale and ‘start her own business,’ which also happened to be selling flower petals wholesale.

Don’t worry, I don’t want to sehll you anything. Or for you to sehll anything, for that mattehr. What I want is to hehlp you, Pamehla, by showing you what it is you areh leharning to do whehn you draw in that notehbook.

“Show me?” Pamela snorted, “Um, grandmother tree, it’s obvious what I’m learning to do. I’m learning to draw. I’m going to be a great artisté. Ever heard of an artisté?”

I don’t haveh ehars, so I havehn’t hehard of anything, much lehss of an, um, of an ‘artistéh.’ It sounds madeh up, honehstly.

“Pfft. Here you are talking about dimensions and boxes and time epoxy and saying what I’m saying sounds made up. You know, that crabs in a bucket mentality is what keeps a lot of great artistés from succeeding. But I won’t let you root me down.”

Was that a treeh pun? It fehlt a littleh offehnsiveh.

“Says the tree that literally latched a vine onto my butt to talk to me.”

Says theh human that litehrally draws rehnditions of my pehopleh as grotehsqueh human treeh hybrids covehrehd in disgusting human sehxual charactehristics that would cehrtainly keehp any cock rehspecting plant from pollinating or flowehring or anything theh hehn out.

“I’m not sure how you knew I was—erm, might be doing that. But even if I was doing that, why is there anything wrong with me doing that, if doing that makes me a better member of the Roya—erm, Loyal Gourd?”

You seehm to haveh forgottehn that I can rehad your mind.

“Oh cockhamnit,” Pamela sighed. She stopped drawing phalluses on trees for a moment. She allowed her eyes to dance around the scene before her as she marinated in shame, looking at the suns shimmering in her eyeballs. She saw normal, yet well dressed trees swaying in the wind in the distance. She felt the soul mosquitos draining her soul. She glanced at the—

“What the cluck?!”

What?

“Why didn’t you tell me there are soul mosquitos all over the place?!” Pamela shrieked, swatting at the soul mosquitos, all of whom rushed away from her hand only to immediately reinplant themselves upon her flesh in an unecessarily nauseating way.

Sorry, I guehss.

“You guess?!” Pamela said as she smashed a soul mosquito against her neck and watched as little purple blobs of soul splattered all over herself.

I didn’t rehally think it was a big dehal, if weh’reh behing honehst.

“I happen to like my soul very much, thank you, and don’t want these cockawful mosquitos sucking it all up!”

You humans areh so silly. I guehss that comehs with pehrciehving within theh wallehd gardehn of timeh.

“The walled what now? First time has epoxy and now it has walls?

Which one is it? Get your story straight!”

It was a mehtaphor.

“I don’t care if it was a meaty whore! That’s beside the point.”

You’reh not undehrstanding what I’m saying.

“If you put literally any effort into trying to help me understand then maybe I’d be having less trouble.”

Leht’s go back to what I was talking about eharliehr. Rehmehmbehr theh dimehnsions? Theh point, theh lineh, theh boxehs, theh—

“Foxes? There are transdimensional foxes? Why, that’s fascinating.”

Um, sureh. Anywhatways, as a treeh, with my pehrcehption behing as it is, I actually consciously inhabit all points of timeh whehrehin I ehxist all at onceh.

“Can we please talk more about the foxes?”

No. So, theh cool thing is, sinceh I’m conscious for all of my timeh all at onceh, I ehxpehriehnceh what could beh considehrehd functional immortality.

“I already know you’re functionally immobile. You’re a clucking tree, that’s the whole point.”

No, not immobility, immortality. I will nehvehr ehxpehriehnceh dehath as a human would. My consciousnehss is ehtehrnal. Why, I alrehady know how I dieh, behcauseh for meh consciously it has alrehady happehnehd, and is in fact always happehning. Of courseh, this calls into quehstion theh mehaning of lifeh, as wehll theh ehxistehnceh of freeh will. Or, rehally any will at all, I guehss. But whehn you’reh a treeh you haveh ehtehrnity to think about it, so it’s not that big a dehal.

Now, um, why again did I geht on that tangehnt again? Oh, yehs. It was behcauseh you mehntionehd theh soul mosquitos. Seeh, I’veh nehvehr had to worry about thoseh. Not only is my bark much too strong for thehir neehdly littleh suckehrs to prick into, but in fact I don’t ehvehn neehd a soul. Cock knows if I’veh got oneh, and honehstly I couldn’t giveh an ass’ rat ehithehr way, behcauseh what useh is a soul whehn you’reh alrehady immortal?

“Way to rub it in.”

Hehy, I’m just trying to ehducateh you.

“That doesn’t mean you’ve got to be so smug about it.”

Smug or not, Pamehla, I’m on your sideh. Don’t you want to leharn how to useh theh fifth dimehnsion?

“I’d rather meet the transdimensional foxes, but sure, why not?”

Ehxcehllehnt. Seeh, for an infehrior behing such as yoursehlf to intehract with theh fifth dimehnsion in any mehaningful way, somehthing that ehvehn a common clovehr could do without ehvehn trying, you neehd a tool. Somehthing with which to impart your will upon or through. Your will which I’veh alrehady ehxplainehd probably doehsn’t ehxist, but that’s behsideh theh point.

“If it’s beside the point, why do you keep bringing it up?”

I’m just giving you a hard timeh, comeh on, grow someh thickehr skin you old flehsh puppeht.

“Has anybody ever slapped a tree?”

I don’t think so.

Pamela gave the grandmother tree her best backhanding, which ended up bruising her wrist badly.

“Cluck’s sake! Ow!”

Silly humans, what with your pehnt up aggrehssion.

“Stop talking down to me!”

I’m not talking to you, I’m psychically waving to you at an ehqual hehight to your own mind. Which, consehquehntly, has ehndehd up behing far, far lowehr down on theh mehntal food chain than my own.

“You know what?” Pamela grabbed the vine and yanked it off her butt, which was she had just noticed incredibly sore.

SQEEEEEET

White, glucosey muck shot everywhere, and, taking hold of this opportunity, Pamela used it to draw a couple vaginas and penises on the trunk of the grandmother tree as the vine sputtered and withered into a wrinkly husk.

“Hah. Take that, you crusty old vitch.”

“Why, Pamela, I didn’t realize you were a graffitist!”

Pamela jolted like an electrocuted kitten. She swiveled around to see a hulking monster standing before her. Its head was a grotesque, enormous squid. Rank water black as the beasts’ soulless eyes dribbled on the ground around it in endless pools. Its flesh or fur or whatever was long and dark and leafy and green and it stank to high hen. And there poor Pamela’s heart went, dropping down to her cervix once again.