The Kirksville Chainsaw Massacre

Today I looked out the window of our quaint little cottage to see a man bearing a chainsaw in our yard. Although many might be alarmed if they saw a stranger that could pass for a clothed yeti toting a chainsaw anywhere near their property, I wasn't too fazed. Kirksville is a sleepy town where nothing ever happens, so the thought of a would-be-horror-movie seemed highly unlikely.

I yelled down to my roommate. Even though the four of us live on three separate floors, we're against disrupting the ass-mold of wherever we might be sitting to communicate with one another. In absence of physical movement, we either call them on their cell phone (if it's after 7 pm), IM them, or simply yell.

The man in our yard looked like Tom Hanks in Castaway with more clothing. He had a shaggy beard and the visible hair under his trucker hat was unkept. Jessie verifies that she sees the man, and tells me it looks like he's pouring something on the ground. I look out my window, having a superior bird's eye view from the second floor. Nope, he's not pouring something on the ground. He's filling what looks like gasoline into his chainsaw.

Being the only house on our street, we notice when there are people around. This guy was not unusual for what we might normally see. He was wearing tan overalls, with a red plaid shirt underneath, and he looked dirty. Luckily, no police officers were asking me for a description, because I just described about a quarter of the residents in Kirksville. He began to unbuckle his overalls, and that's when I began to get weirded out. Is this drifter-guy really gonna pee in my yard? But, no such luck on booty sightings for the day. He simply untwisted his straps and went about his business.

What exactly was his business? He sat working on the chainsaw for about ten minutes before reviing it up. He then proceeded to move towards a tree at the far end of our driveway.

I think he's gonna cut down that tree, I yell at my roommate.

You think?

I watched him. Why is he cutting down our tree? Technically it's not ours. We're only renting this house, after all. But now that he's cutting it down, I feel like it's my tree. Did my landlord actually send him, or is he just some guy looking for free firewood? Coming to more logical conclusions, I muse that the tree could be dead, and he could be a city worker coming to cut it down. I look at his truck for a logo. No such luck. He has a black truck with a gray driver's side door. Typical Kirksville.

When I left for class, he had toppled the tree but was still working on cutting off all the branches. I really hope he takes it with him when he leaves. I don't know what we're gonna do with a giant tree in our driveway.