By The Axe

Lying under a massive oak, his crushed chest filled with one last gasp of air, Earl remembered what his father told him many years ago.
“Live by the sword, die by the sword,” he said.
“But I don’t use a sword,” said Earl. “I use an axe.”
Earl’s father frowned. “I don’t know how you’ll die,” he said. “Maybe you should switch to a sword?”
“Swords aren’t very good at chopping down trees,” said Earl.
“Then I guess you’ll die by the tree,” said Earl’s father. “Live by the axe, die by the tree.”
“Timber,” whispered Earl, and he died.