George the gnome lived on top of a hill. A Warren of bunnies lived under the hill, and were mostly okay neighbors. Sometimes, in the evenings, the bunnies liked to come up on top of the hill also, to eat clover and watch the sunset.
George didn't mind. He liked their little fluffy ears, and their little twitchy noses, and most especially their little fluffy bunny butts. They were prettier than sunsets, and softer than clover, and he wanted to touch one.
George knew he might get in trouble, so he waited. And one sunset, one little bunny settled down just close enough to him, that he reached out, and gently patted her on the little fluffy tail.
The bunny ran away, but George smiled. It was so soft. He wanted do do it again, and he got to his little gnome feet to sit down again somewhere else, a little closer.
George didn't get far. The faerie queen of the bunnies popped up out of her deep, deep bunny hole and stopped him, and said in her deep, deep, faerie queen voice:
"GEORGE THE GNOME! DID YOU TOUCH A BUNNY?"
George agreed that he had, and that bunny butts were prettier than sunsets and softer than clover. That he very much wanted to make friends with the bunnies, so he could do it again but with less of the running.
The faerie queen of the bunnies was not impressed. "GEORGE, IF YOU EVER TOUCH ANOTHER BUNNY BUTT, I WILL TURN YOU INTO A TREE," she told him.
George wondered for a moment what it would like to be a tree. But he agreed again, just to keep himself out of trouble.
The faerie queen of the bunnies took George at his word, and turned to go. And George, in that moment, was faced with the biggest and fluffiest bunny butt closer to him than any bunny butt had ever been.
He reached out and touched it.
And the faerie queen of the bunnies turned George the gnome into George the tree, right then and there. He was a funny looking tree, all short and stumpy like a gnome, but the branches didn't reach the ground, and he couldn't touch the bunnies any more.
The bunnies still live under the hill, but they come out more often. George the tree sits at all kinds of funny angles, blown by the wind and the want of soft little bunny tails, but never reached the ground again. The bunnies don't mind him. They like to sit in the shade during summer afternoons, and eat clover until the sunset comes.