CHOP, CHOP . . .  CHOP . . . Criss swung his solid metal axe, taking down 18 foot thick trees in one swing of his axe, the earth shook clear to his village as the large massive trees hit the floor, taking out smaller trees as they fell, tree after tree fell as Criss continued to do his job, once that he had, had, sense he was only 8, soon Criss stood in a clearing of trees that he had made, sitting down on one of the stumps to stop and take a drink out of the glass bottles, he looked about the forest, wondering, just how long he was going to continue to do this.