My walk goes quietly for the next fifteen minutes and I figure the old man has finally gone away. I would look back and check but then, if he’s still there, he’ll think that I care and it’ll only encourage him. It is then that I hear that familiar, shrill tone.

“Are trees alive?” asks the old coot.

“What kind of stupid question is that?” I cleverly retort.

So pressed for time…losing it…must…post…comic…will…fix…later…