"Good morning, Myrtle!  And what can I do for you today?"
    "It's the doggone weeds, Mr. Larch.  They're driving me crazy.  I've tried pulling them out, but they keep coming back.  Plus, it's really trunk-breaking labor.  Can you recommend anything?  I don't like poisons.  Too messy and dangerous.  And besides that, they're still a lot of work!"
    "Myrtle, it's a good thing you came to me.  I have just the thing for you.  It's called 'fire.'  It's safe, cheap, and easy.  Make that 'low-risk, affordable, and hassle-free.'"
    "Wow! That sounds too good to be true!" said Myrtle. "Can you tell me about this fire stuff?"
    "Certainly," replied Mr. Larch. "You just apply a little to the affected area, and it all goes up in a puff of smoke."
    "Uh, smoke?"
    "Oh, it's gray, billowy stuff," explained Mr. Larch. "Kind of like clouds."
    "Would that be what I saw in the air behind your store as I was coming in?"
    "Um, yes, it would."  Mr. Larch looked a tad nervous.  "Here.  Let me show you."
    Mr. Larch led Myrtle out behind his store. "See?  I've got about an acre going here.  Whenever I find anyone willing and able to pay my affordable price, I just hand 'em a burning brand."
    "Excuse me," faltered Myrtle, "but this stuff looks dangerous.  Couldn't it make us 'go up' too?"
    Mr. Larch waved a dismissive limb.  "It's perfectly safe," he said. "Almost perfectly safe.  You just have to use a little bit at a time and keep it contained.  It's a labor-saving boon to treekind."
    "Contained?" peeped Myrtle.
    "Oh, yes.  You see, I've dug a firebreak all around this one."
    "Um, don't look now," said Myrtle apprehensively, "but your fire seems to have jumped your firebreak over there."  She pointed a twig at the back end of the lot.
    "Nothing to worry about," said Mr. Larch reassuringly. "There are hardly any trees out that way."
    "Hardly any?" squeaked Myrtle. "What if that got loose in a forest?"  She was gulping carbon dioxide now.
    "You're such a worry wart!" chided Mr. Larch. "There have been very few accidents.  A deciduous forest here and there.  Nothing in our neighborhood."
    Myrtle was shaking so violently that all her leaves fell off.  "It isn't even autumn yet," she griped. "Now what am I supposed to do?  Don't you even know how to stop this stuff?"
    "Think about your weeds!" suggested Mr. Larch. "This stuff goes right through 'em!"
    "Do you know how to stop it?" Myrtle repeated.
    "You worry too much," said Mr. Larch soothingly. "Our scientists are working on it.  They'll figure something out before we're all charred hulks."
    "Yikes!" squealed Myrtle. "That's the best you can do?"
    "Oh, no," continued Mr. Larch. "Of course not.  In the meantime, we have sophisticated containment technologies."
    "Like your firebreak?" suggested Myrtle.
    "Even better," said Mr. Larch. "We're going to localize it.  We'll just set the state of Nevada on fire, and everyone will just get their fire from there!"
    "We're a long way from Nevada," Myrtle pointed out. "How will you serve your, uh, customers?"
    "We've got it whipped!" said Mr. Larch, without missing a beat. "We will maintain very narrow conflagration lines between here and there!  That way, everyone can be easily serviced.  So, how many burning brands would you like to buy?"

Guess it was just time for another bit on the asininity of the nuclear energy industry.
 

 

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