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The tree fell down today and crushed the life out of Mr Valdez. Believing himself to still be alive he asked Mr Millus to take him to the hospital. Mr Millus didn’t think there was any point as Mr Valdez was obviously dead and gone but he gave him a lift nonetheless. When Mr Valdez arrived at St. Marie’s he was told by the hospital’s very finest that he had died the very moment the trunk had made contact with his fragile little cranium. Mr Valdez, unwilling to believe the plain truth, asked for a mirror. When it arrived he found, to his dismay, his head lodged firmly in his neck with no real sign of a face to speak of. As if stung by a hornet he suddenly cried out in agony and, right there and then, died once more. Mr Millus, tired of the whole sorry affair, left Mr Valdez on the floor of the hospital and made his way home, stopping at the corner shop to buy some bread and chicken noodles for his supper. Meanwhile, back home, everyone was trying to decide how exactly to lift the huge monster of an oak-tree that was spread-eagled, quite deliberately, across the road. Several ideas were voiced by the crowd that had gathered in the street but most of them just floated away on the wind - they were rubbish ideas anyway. In the end it was decided that the best option would be to just leave the tree where it was and build a new road around it.