I was walking to class yesterday on the beautiful Indiana University campus.  If you have never been to hilly Monroe County this time of year, I recommend you come down.  I have a futon, you can sleep there if you would like.  I was in the Crescent Forest, a beautiful section of the IU campus with various breeds of beautiful old trees and a charming amount of green space I imagine few Universities still posses.  The forest is surrounded by the finest brick and limestone architecture of the 19th century, as well as IU’s picturesque Sample Gates.  These gates provide a barrier between the small but lively downtown and the most enchanting part of old IU. 

As usual I was very much enjoying my surroundings.  I was paying particular attention to the trees today.  The leaves were changing, and to my good fortune the weather was still withholding its late summer climate.  I was just about to leap up into the air and click my heels together in joy, showing my gratitude to nature and my surroundings, when I saw him.  The Man.  Not far off I saw it.  A bike.  Bikes are certainly not uncommon around here, Bloomington happens to boast one of the finest bike rides in the country, the Little 500.  This bike however was not being ridden, neither in race nor for leisurely transport.  It rested between two limestone buildings.  Centers for learning, opportunity, and advancement no doubt; and certainly a good place for a rest.  The bikes do-good owner, a lover of nature I am sure had picked a small tree, I would guess in its teenage years, to guard his bicycle. 

Big mistake!  Here came the Man, pen in hand, ticket book in the other.   As I saw this I thought to myself, how dare he.  All this fine pupil is doing is attending class, meeting with a counselor or professor, trying to carve his way into a world that needs another soul like him.  He is doing me and this nasty walking ticket dispenser a favor by not putting another vehicle on this road at this time.  Now I don’t know any statistics on automobile pollution, but I am sure his decision to bike that day saved well over a million lives, and gave the earth another 200 years of life.  The monetary issue of pedaling vs. fuel costs, car maintenance, and parking meters and permit fees I will not begin to get into, but no doubt the choice to bike seemed to be more economical at the start of this fine young mans journey. 

At this point I was outraged.  A fellow lover and preserver of nature was being attacked, and he was nowhere in sight to defend himself.  So I did what any noble member of the green community would do.  I summoned a group of my friends from forest.  The old Maples militant effort to cover me as I went in for the kill was magnificent.  My enemy never saw my attack coming.  As I hurled my sedimentary friend into the air, I heard the rock call out, “die you bastard,” just before it connected with the forehead of the Man.  GO GREEN!