The tale of Happy the Sloth. And of Doofer. The dungbeetle.

Happy is a happy sloth. 

A very happy sloth. 

A very very happy sloth. 

A really happy sloth, you might say. 

Then one day, Happy died. 

This made him sad. 

He was now Happy the sad sloth. 

To be precise, Happy the sad dead sloth. 

To make things worse, Happy did not go to a happy place when 
he died. 

He went to a sad place. 

Even worse, none of his freinds were there, like he thought. 

It turned out that they all went to the happy place. 

Which bummed Happy out. 

All his friends had been sad. 

There was Lucy the sad mushroom. 

And Elbert the sad hyena. 

And Spicy the sad wildebeast. 

And finally, Doofer the sad dungbeetle. 

Happy and Doofer had been best buddies. 

They used to hang out a lot. 

Happy would make a joke about dung. 

Then Doofer would make a joke about slothful activity. 

They would have a good laugh. 

But they each secretly disliked the other for it. 

One day, a while back, Happy stepped on Doofer. 

And killed him. 

Killed him dead. 

This was why Happy hoped to find Doofer in the sad place. 

Although by now, Happy wasn’t sure they would be the best of 
terms. 

Anyway, one day, in the sad place, Happy decided to do 
something. 

He had never been much for doing things. 

He was a sloth, remember? 

Before, when he was alive, he sometimes got teased. 

"It won’t kill you" the other animals would say. 

"Maybe not, but why take the chance?" Happy would reply. 

It was his only reponse. 

He used it a lot. 

But now that he was dead, he couldn’t. 

With no reason not to do something, Happy decided it was 
time. 

The thing that he wanted to do involved an exploding beetle. 

You know, those guys that shoot fire out of their rears with 
some strange chemical reaction. 

There were a lot of them in the sad place. 

I’m not sure why. 

Happy found a whole pile of them. 

So he climbed on top. 

Then he scared them. 

They blow up. 

Happy was shot up in the air. 

Similar to a cork from a bottle. 

If the bottle looked like a sad place. 

And 

If the cork looked like a sloth. 

A sad sloth. 

A sad dead sloth. 

Anyway, Happy flew up really high. 

Really high. 

Really really high. 

Very high, you might say. 

He reached the happy place. 

He was surprised. 

He pretended it was his plan all along, of course. 

"Yay me!" He yelled. 

There was no one to hear him. 

So he stopped yelling. 

There was no need to do too many things, after all. 

He set out to find Doofer. 

First he came to a ring of flaming lemon trees. 

He made flaming lemonade. 

It didn’t taste as good as you might think. 

Next, he found a semicircle. 

But he couldn’t handle it. 

Then he found Doofer. 

Then he found bicycle tire. 

Then he put it down and said "Oh, wait, I was looking for 
Doofer." 

He went back to Doofer. 

"You’re looking sadder then usual" Doofer said. 

Happy explained that this was because he was dead. 

Doofer looked embaressed. 

So Happy decided to slap him. 

He had nothing to lose. 

Doofer wasn’t amused. 

But then they decided to find a way back to the world of the 
living. 

It took them a while to decide. 

It was either that or taking a seven-month night class in 
cheese-sniffing. 

Doofer really liked cheese. 

However, Happy was able to bring him around with his 
argumention skills. 

They involved slapping. 

But that’s beside the point. 

The point is... 

Sharp. 

But that’s beside the point, too. 

Anyway. 

Happy and Doofer found a ladder down to the world of the 
living. 

It was a long way down. 

So Happy pushed Doofer down it. 

To test it out, of course. 

But Doofer grabbed Happy at the last minute. 

To pull him in. 

But dungbeetles don’t have much body mass. 

So neither fell in. 

They decided to take the elevator. 

There was a long line. 

So Happy pushed them down the ladder. 

It was the happy place. No one expected it. 

Happy and Doofer got in the elevator. 

It was a big elevator. 

And it was shiney silver too. 

But you didn’t need to know that. 

It took a couple days to reach the bottom. 

When it did, they stepped out in the world of the very 
living. 

The very very living. 

The... aw, forget it, where was I? 

The world of the living. 

They had only taken ten steps when all the people that Happy 
had pushed into the ladder fell down on them. 

Doofer lived. 

Happy didn’t. 

Doofer thought this was kinda funny. 

Happy was not amused. 

But he was dead, so there wasn’t much he could do. 

Not that he did much anyway. 

Doofer went back to his dung-home. 

And there was no one to poke fun. 

The end.