“I’m sorry, Billy,” his mom said when he ran into the house crying, “but your favorite old tree was sick and the tree doctor said it couldn’t be saved. He said we needed to put it down so that it wouldn’t fall on our house in the next big storm.”
“Are you going to put me down, too, the next time I get sick?” Billy asked. “Like you did with our dog a few months ago and our cat last year?”
“Don’t be silly, Billy,” his mom said. “We’d never do that to you. Just don’t get sick.”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Sandra Crook.