A couple trees on my lot have been bugging me for years.  They are growing out of control and need to be removed.  After many moments of skillful procrastination, it was finally time.

There was no giant blue ox to assist me.  But, I had an advantage that Paul Bunyan never experienced.  Modern industrial chainsaw technology would be at my service.

I grabbed hold of my nifty chain saw and heaved it up as I walked toward the two doomed trees.  I removed the fuel cap.  Opening a freshly brewed two-cycle gas and oil mix, I filled the thirsty machine until it was brimming over.

Finally, I topped off the oil.  There is never too much oil for sending the cutting chain through living tree bark and wood.  All of the mixtures were in proper proportion.

It was time to do the man-thing.  Burly men with their chain saw scoff at standing timber.  What must be felled will be toppled.

With the confidence of lumberjacks who have gone before me, I primed my saw.  I toggled the ignition, pulled out the choke, and braced my foot against the handle to steady the start of an eager beaver of a wood chopper.

Two pulls of the starting cord and the roar of my yellow saw jumped to life.  With ease I lifted the cutting machine into place and felt the power of the sharpened chisels racing around the cutting bar.  Keeping in mine all of the safety measures that I have learned over years of handling this dangerous machine, I moved the chainsaw into cutting position.

Like a hot knife through butter, the wood chips went flying.  A straight cut severed the trunk and tree.  After a brief moment, the eight foot straggly sickly eye-sore sad-excuse for a tree leaned hard to the right.  Its struggle to stay upright was futile.  “Timber!” I shouted in my mind.  The first tree lay on the ground.

I turned my head to spy the second task just a few feet away.  It couldn’t escape its fate.  Depressing the trigger of my cutting tool and the sound of a racing engine brought down the second tree.  Without a pause I trimmed the limbs of both trees and cut up the trunk into two-foot length pieces.

Paul Bunyan would have still been swinging his axe.  The blue ox would have looked longingly for a reprieve.  Yeah, I’m Asian and I can handle a chainsaw.

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