(Scene: Brooke and Army Boy in the living room of the Casa. They have just put up their Christmas tree, and are all dolled up, on their way out to see Straight No Chaser in concert.)
Brooke: Whoa… the tree already drank half its water. Can you refill it quickly before we leave?
Army Boy: Sure thing. (Waters tree, puts coat on.)
Brooke: (baby talking to Tree*) Who’s a thirsty tree? That’s right! It’s you!
Fast forward four hours later. They walk in the door, removing coats and exclaiming over the awesomeness of the show.)
Army Boy: Man, I loved how they turned off their mics for the encore, that was SO COOL.
Brooke: I know! Everyone was on the edge of their seats! (checks tree water) UM!?!?
Brooke: It’s almost empty. It drank the whole thing in four hours.
AB: Yikes! (gets water, refills tree stand.)
Brooke: Should I be worried overnight? I mean… if it drank that much in 4 hours, it’s going to be dry by morning…
AB: I’m sure it will be fine. It’s going to slow down at some point.
(The Next Morning, 5am- Army Boy’s alarm goes off. Brooke, still worried about the tree, jumps up to check. Sure enough- the stand is totally empty.)
Brooke: (muttering while filling stand) Crap. If you go and die on me because I didn’t get up during the night to give you water, I will be SO pissed. It’s bad enough I’ll be getting up to take care of Mr Peepants in another week.
(Goes back to bed. Worries for an hour over the possibility that she has inadvertently killed the tree by not getting up during the night to water it. Worries over the fact that she is even worried about getting up during the night FOR A TREE.)
(8am, Brooke is getting ready for work.)
Brooke: So, let’s see how you are, Tree…. Oh, now you’re not drinking at all. NICE. You’re going Dalai Lama on my ass and staging a hunger strike. For tha love—
(Goes to work. Texts Army Boy and asks for update on the tree when he gets home, 8 hours later. Theoretically, the tree should have nearly drained the stand.)
(It didn’t. Brooke and Army Boy decided to take action by getting a bigger stand from Brooke’s parents, taking the tree DOWN, cutting the bottom again, and putting the tree back up. YAY!)
(Brooke is under the tree, holding the stand as Army Boy picks up the tree to move it.)
Army Boy: Hold it tighter! Step on it!
Brooke: I AM holding it tight. Stop yanking for just a second so I can see what the problem is.
AB: It’s caught on something.
Brooke: Well thank you for that. I have pine needles in my bra while we’re stating the obvious.
(Two minutes of frustration later, the tree is free and laid on the carpet. Army Boy grabs the saw.)
Brooke: No! What are you doing?!
AB: Cutting the bottom off…
Brooke: Let’s make sure it will fit in the stand and that we don’t have to take any more branches off.
AB: Oh. Good call. (checks) We’re good…
Brooke: Ok. Let’s do this.
(Army Boy commences tree surgery.)
AB: It’s done. Let’s get it in water, stat!
Brooke: Don’t you dare die on me, tree!
AB: Why do I feel like we’re on a medical drama right now?
Brooke: Stop talking! Get me an amp of epi and 10 cc’s of lidocaine! I need to prep for a chest tube.
AB: Um? It’s a tree? Hold it while I tighten the stand.
Brooke: I need to crack it. Pass me the sternal saw!
AB: Ok, you watched way too many “ER” re-runs.
Brooke: I- (cough cough spit spit) Sap in ah owf!
AB: Um? German “ER”?
Brooke: No! Thap in ah owf!! (gestures at her mouth)
AB: Oh. Sap in your mouth. Got it. Try letting go, it should be set.
(It was. And it started drinking again. So the whole bloody thing was worth it and the tree will not die before Christmas. Also: Thank you for reading the convoluted re-telling of this saga.)
*Yes. I talk to the Christmas tree. When something is clearly so vitally ALIVE as this particular tree… it just makes sense. To me. In my head.