The oak tree was quite beside itself. It had heard (just hearsay apparently but usually that was reliable) that when cut down it was to be used to make furniture.
“I shall be made into furniture,” said the oak, “not ghastly firewood like that cherry tree next to me. I would imagine it will be beautiful furniture for the upper classes. After all, my grain is very impressive indeed.”
“I’m happy to be firewood,” said the cherry tree. “At least I shall serve some purpose and help to keep others warm.”
“Oh you’re so basic, so primitive, so uninspiring,” said the oak. “Furniture is my destiny, my calling, my vocation.”
And indeed it came to pass… The cherry tree was cut into firewood.
The oak was made into furniture; classroom desks. And some naughty little boy scratched the word FART into the wood.