Treeson

Today my breakfast was interrupted by the sound of the cats carting a wagon full of fireworks through the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” I asked them.

“The tree pixies have invaded!” the cats cried, as they pulled the cart out into the garden.

“Are you talking about the woodpeckers again?” I wondered as I followed them through the back door.

The cats stopped the wagon behind a small barricade they had built from cardboard boxes. I looked up at the nearest tree and was alarmed to see what appeared to be a large hive constructed from green crystal.

“Oh dear,” I said. “Should I call someone in?”

“Everything is under control, human,” Smudge assured me, as he let off a rocket. The firework smashed into the hive with a musical crash and sent tiny shavings of emerald showering down around us.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said, taking a step back towards the house. “But don’t set the tree on fire, please.”