Once there was a beautiful Elm tree that lived beside a parking garage. The tree's name was Milton Whitney-Banger, and the parking garage was called Jeff.
Before the parking garage, Milton had been the prettiest tree in the entire forest and all the other trees had envied him and been mean to him, but they were all cut down and now Milton hung out with Jeff and watched the humans park their cars.
Milton the tree liked humans. He liked cars, and shoes, and sweaters. Milton hated being a tree.
He told Jeff that he wished he'd been cut down, then maybe he could be a coffee table and a pair of clogs, or some nice bookshelves.
Jeff said he'd never thought to be anything other than a parking garage.
One day, a glorious human in a red sweater crashed her car in to Milton the tree.
He was so excited that he fell over and some men had to come and get him. They took him to a lumber yard where he met Roger Shimpertangle, an Oak tree with a distaste for modern art, who told Milton that he would finally become a coffee table.
Milton the tree became Milton the log, became Milton the planks of wood, which were sent on a long journey to France where he finally became Milton the coffee table. He was then sent back again to live in Botley for some reason.
At first, Milton loved being a table. He was always the center of attention and he could always see everyone's shoes. But then he realized that being a table was terrible, because all anyone ever does it put their shit on you.
Around July of 2000, Milton decided that he'd like to become a country western singer.
The family that owned Milton the table heard his mournful appalachian songs in the night and assumed their house was haunted.
They called a preisty, Father Pildred, whose cross was made from a bit of Roger Shimpertangle, the oak tree.
Roger told Milton that Father Pildred loved modern art and was actually an atheist deep down inside, so Roger could never quite take Father Pildred seriously. 'People who like modern art are asshole who believe in nothing!' Roger the swinging cross shouted at Milton.
'Listen to my country western song!' Milton the coffee table cried, and began to sing as loud as he could.