The Little Man in the Oak Tree

On a warm summer’s morn, when the air was as fresh as the day it was born.  I took leave of my studies and leaned against an old oak, to work on my verse.  The weathered old oak held me erect and I did not object, for such a lovely serene scene one could hardly expect.  There I was, to sit, and sit I did.  Waiting for inspiration, chomping at the bit.  Not long I sat before I found myself with an itch in my back.  I asked the old oak if he would oblige.  His weathered skin capitulated to my demand as I rubbed and writhed.  Just then I heard a voice from whence unknown.  I stopped my scratching to make this talker be known.  It was then that I saw the little man of the tree.  His pointy ears red, as he pulled on his beard, when he said with a squeal and a skree.

“Oi Fatty Fat Head!”
“Oi Fatty Fat Head!”
“Why you lean on my tree.  This is the tree of my home you see.  And I am sick of you daft poets disturbing me with your verses, free.  And if you don’t stop mucking about, I shall anoint thy head with my yellow fountain of pee!!!!”

This my eyes and ears did not believe.  The nasty little man began to heehaw and heehee.  And scowl at me as he chastised me with gestures of the obscene.  I looked on this little imp with mouth agape, and said.

“Oh elf of the tree couldst thou permit me.  For such an extraordinary sight I could never hope to see.  You are truly a marvel, my compliments on your oak tree.  What a nice home you have, perhaps you would like to tell me your tale, for I am a master and my scribblings are for sale.  We would be famous together, both our stories living on forever.  Long after this tree is chopped down, or burned, or falls victim to the weather.”

Good reader I tell you my face became read and my heart began to pound, as he emptied his teeny tiny bladder and danced around.  My head was wetted, and as I fretted, he giggled and gaggled and said.

“Oi Fatty Fat Fat I peed on your Head!!!”