"Oh, I wanna be/ a wallaby, I wanna pee/ up in a tree. Life would be/ so fun for me, if I could be/ a wallaby," Mervin sang innocently as he hopped down the bungee path, gingerly avoiding discarded veal cutlets in his way. The roar of the Flying Frog squadron overhead reassured him, reminded him that the horrible nightmares he had been having recently were only dreams, and nothing more.
Mervin continued his jolly song. Soon he spied a friendly-looking branch on a spike-in-your-brain tree on the side of the road, and, still humming his little tune, whacked it off with his machete. In a frenzy of whittling, he managed to produce nothing but a pile of wood shavings, and cut his own legs off to boot. "Uh-oh," thought Mervin, "no more hopping for me." Very, very shortly thereafter, when the blood loss was really starting to get to him, he became woozy, fell over, and passed out.
He awoke in a hospital and was shocked to discover that his legs had been replaced with large boxes of clotted plywood with decorative lace trimming. The doctors explained to him that his insurance didn't cover real legs, and this was all they could buy with the change they found in his pockets, and he should count himself lucky that they found him on "Free Operation Day".
But it was all right, because Mervin killed himself that evening and was reincarnated as a wallaby the very next day.