In Which I learn The Canvass

“Hi, my name is Abby Snow. We are students working on a scholarship. Instead of junk food, we have something longer lasting. I’ll let you take a look.”

I then proceeded to canvass story time.

The tree just stood there, waving in the wind. “Abby Snow,” he said, “trees don’t have children like that. There are none around me. My seed blows away in the wind.”

“Ok, umm…. naturally gourmet offers the latest information–”

“Abby, I don’t cook. I photosynthesize.”

“Oh.” I looked down at the canvass. “Do you like to read?”

“Abby,” Mr. Tree said angrily, “do you know what books are made out of? Me! That’s what. Me and my brothers and sisters and daughters and sons get cut up to make the paper to make your stupid books. It is very inconsiderate of you to try and sell me books that are made of…. me.”

“Oh, sorry sir. Um, have a nice day.”

In hindsight, I should’ve canvassed him a DVD.

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