It was with a large crackle of thunder that the protector of the trees came from the sky. He arose with blonde, wild hair and markings on his skin, crawling from the deceased tree.
Craig didn’t notice his presence until he stood face to face with the God of the Forest.
“Excuse me,” came a tense voice from the small god. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Craig looked at the guy. He had to be at least three heads smaller than him.
“Chopping wood,” came the nasal reply. You’d never think that this tall guy would sing a lot of songs and play his electric guitar all the time. You’d never think a bunch of girls would ship him with himself, but we’re getting too out of hand and too meta.
“Well stop it. You’re hurting the fragile ecosystem. It’s bothering everyone,” Tweek pointed at a lot of animals taking refuge in the background. A rabbit, a jackovasaur, heck, even a manbearpig was hiding in the wild. The author kids, of course. It was just Al Gore in a costume.
Craig said nothing, but flipped off the god, turning on the spot to his trusty, but giant, guinea pig. Tweek saw red, which is not uncommon for a forest god, and said something rather brash.
“Fuck you! Fuck your guinea pig too, for letting you get away with this! Go shove your guinea pig up your own ass, for all I care!” By now, the animals of the forest had all hid away. With the exception being Al Gore, and the dragon/donkey hybrids, but that’s a whole other company, so let’s leave it at that.
Now, if there was one thing to know about Craig Tucker, it was that he didn’t take kindly to people spreading rumors about his guinea pig. Himself, or his family, he didn’t care about. Stripe was sacred, and should never be spoken ill of. Those were the rules.
So it was with a fiery temper that he returned to the God of the Forest and punched him in the face. Tweek was shocked at this new development, but quick on his feet. A punch turned into a kick and then they married and lived happily ever after in the forest and Craig never chopped another tree.