Something is definitely wrong with this poor little tree. The branches are all brown near the trunk.
Shall we have a closer look?
Bleaugh! This tree is diseased! The needles look all rotten and they're actually turning black—oh my god, it has the plague.
... Aaaaand it's attracting flies. That cannot possibly be a good sign.
Oh, holy hell. This fly has fucking DIED. Is my tree toxic to FLIES now?
This fly is still alive and it looks EVIL.
That's it. I'm cutting it down and tossing it in the trash.
Fortunately, I had a brain wave and grabbed a large, stiff plastic shopping bag and upended it over the tree, then severed the trunk just above the soil level with my loppers. Floomp! Over went the felled tree onto the pavement, still neatly contained in the plastic bag. Nice and impersonal. I didn't even have to touch it. I tied off the bag and dumped it directly into the garbage can, then swabbed my loppers with rubbing alcohol. When you get the plague, you gotta keep it contained. Too bad the garbage truck has already come by today. I guess the corpse will just fester in the trash can for the next week. Poor plague-ridden thing. It had been one of two cute little blue spruces planted in urns that flank my garage door. It's a shame to break up the set, but if I hadn't disposed of the mostly dead one, whatever nasty disease that was plaguing it might have spread to the other tree—or worse!
Ah, well! Shit happens.