My Day Of Life Without Trees

My Day of Life without Trees When my geography teacher came into class with an oxygen mask in one hand, a first-aid kit in the other and announced with a grim, I-told-you-so set of her jaw that the entire planet's tree supply had just been depleted, I blinked and let out a disbelieving bark of laughter. I mean, really; as if there weren't several hundred pines planted right outside the school! As if there weren't billions of acres of forests somewhere in Canada! "There's an oxygen mask on each desk," She said. "Put it on before you suffocate." I snuck a glance out the window to confirm my theory that, after many long years of teaching, the teacher had finally gone nutters – and froze when I saw fields of bare concrete. Suddenly, there was a tight clenching in my chest as if the air had been sucked right out of me, and I dropped dead to the floor. In retrospect, my parents probably should've conserved energy and saved the planet before it was too late.