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You could say I’m somewhat of an expert. I’ve perched upon gnarly oaks, shaded under weeping willows, and even sampled the sap of the sweet maples. What can I do for you gentlemen?”“Would you care to settle and argument for us? Could you tell us whether this sapling is the Son of a Birch, or the Son of a Beech?”“I would be happy to!” Said the woodpecker and off he flew.The princes were secure with this turn of events and even ceased arguing for a while until they heard the sound of tapping.Tap, tap, tap. Went the woodpecker. Tap, tap, tappity, tap tap. On it went for quite some time.Finally the woodpecker returned with a smug, satisfied smile.“Well” asked the princes, “Is the young sapling a Son of a Birch or a Son of a Beech?”“Gentlemen, the sapling is neither the Son of a Birch nor a Son of a Beech.” the woodpecker replied. “For the sapling is a female tree ... and the finest young Ash I’ve ever had the privilege to tap!”Mathematics: Brilliant!!This comes from 2 math teachers with. Dappled sun. Secrecy prevailed. Claudia found the clearing. Folded her shawl, took off clothes. Dropped money. Lay on the ground, stretching her perfect body. Waited. Always. Counted ten for Mama to return. Waited for Christmas, a happy day and good food. Waited for answered prayers. Had waited for him all her life: phone calls, promises to be fulfilled. She would wait as long as he told her to wait. That's what he had said. Wait until the wind stops. One leaf clung despite growing in deep shadow, the edges of it a tremor in the breeze. Perfect, unfolded and opened toward her.She heard branches crack beneath his feet. Closed her eyes. He took her right foot. Tied it to what she could not tell. Stretched her legs apart. Tied her left foot so that she could not move. He took her arms, pulled them above her head, parted them and tied her wrists. Expertly, softly yet secure. Her back arched. She could not move. No limbo.Her belly rushed. Her labia began to swell. Her lips pumped as she.
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