Earlier this week, Fiorella grabbed her battery chainsaw, the little one Husband gave her for Christmas, and bounced out into the west yard to take down several small cedars. (She has to leave the big ones to husband and his gasoline chainsaw.)
Yes, this is the same Fiorella who loudly decried the way her neighbors had massacred their cedars, virtually balding their acreage. After all, Fio reasoned, with oak wilt two houses and one deep ditch away, she should value every tree on the place. As it turned out, her reasoning was specious. Half those trees Fio thought were live oaks are elms, which are immune to oak wilt. Enter the chainsaw. Fio and Husband plan to take out all the smaller cedars inside the driveway loop and trim up the grandfathers.
The frightening thing is how quickly Fio adjusted to becoming a destroyer of the young. At first she mentally apologized to each of her victims, mourning the life that was not to be, but now she's relishing her role as destroyer.
Is this how mass murderers begin?