"Something is Afoot", remarks the marmoset as he watches bub walk around to the back of the bus. The industrious quadruped removes a large amount of lumber from the back of the bus; plywood, two by fours. From his pocket he removes a hammer and a saw and begins to generate a giant cloud of sawdust.

POUND POUND POUND

SAW SAW SAW

POUND POUND POUND POUND POUND

That's the sound of a fuzzy gray carpenter erecting an inclined plane near the nose of a multi-colored International Harvester school bus.

The moose turns to the caribu and wonders aloud, "What's that wombat Up To?" The caribou notices, but does not mention that the moose has used a preposition to end a sentence with.

The moose, his natural curiosity not satisfied by the taciturn Caribou, wanders over to our hirsute hero. "Soooo.... bub... Whatcha building there, a club house?"

"Never mind that," sez our friend. "Check out the modifications I've made to my Unicycle!". He fumbles around in his pocket and removes said conveyance, peculiarly appointed with wires and some sort of electric motor.

"I've attached this motor from an old washing machine", sez the pouched one to the antlered one. "It will develop a street velocity of 62 miles per hour". The caribou, standing nearby, neglects to mention that there are no streets in the Jungle.

"According to my calculations", bub says, consulting his notes, "that's the exact velocity needed to clear the school bus."

"Clear the school bus?", repeats the united voice of the entire citizenry of the Jungle. Many fierce beasts Take Cover at this point.

Our friend and sometime projectile dons a helmet and climbs into the driver's seat of the one-wheeled velocipede. He plugs it in and studies his notes one last time. "I can't fail this time," he murmurs to nobody in particular as the unicycle vrooms to life.

SCREEEEE

That's the sound of a single tire on the Jungle Floor.

I'd like to pause a moment to discuss the effect of acceleration on wombat fuzz. To the observers, cowering under whatever cover is present, it seems that gray ripples flow concentrically across the wombat's exterior. But from inside, the already ticklish beast experiences paroxysms of chuckling laughter. A parabolic shotgun microphone, carefully aimed at the fuzzy gray snout of the helmeted cyclist, would produce a sound very similar to that of a brown paper bag being crumpled.

Of course, no such device is available in the Jungle at this time. They are all gainfully employed in football stadia on a far distant continent.

The monkey lights a flaming hoop as the wombat on wheel approaches the ramp. The rest of the jungle Pays Close Attention.

As the unicycle climbs the inclined plane, the wombat grins. His eyes light up behind the aviator's goggles he has hastily pulled down over his fuzzy brow.

So far, so good.

Our motorized marsupial Counts Himself Lucky that he is barely singed as he passes through the flaming circle and begins to pass above the bus.

Halfway through his airborne navigation of the length of the multicolored school bus, an interesting thought passes through our ambitious aeronaut's mind. He realizes, once again too late, that the power cord of the motor, plugged in to a conveniently placed outlet, is of significantly lesser length than the sum of the longitude of the bus, the x-coordinate of the inclined plane and the distance of the ramp-way.

SPROINGINGINGINGGGGGGG!

That's the sound of power cord, extended to its full length, pulling an electrified unicycle from beneath the fuzzy butt of a dramatic denizen of the jungle.

The one-wheeled conveyance pendulates from the lower edge of the smoldering ring placed by a primate. The no-wheeled aviator describes a grey parabolic path across the sky.

HMMMM...

That's the sound of a marsupial in transit, considering What He's Done Wrong.

The citizens of the Dark Forest count their lucky stars. They look in wistful silence at the grey arc of the fuzzy streak in the Jungle sky. If he could hear their thoughts, the wombat would bellow, "Not an Arc, a Parabola!"

Instead he only mentions, as he passes through the jungle canopy,

"Ow".

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