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Deep within the Funford Forest, all of the 

animals lived in harmony.   Each animal utilized its 

special talents to make life in the forest run 

smoothly for everyone. 

The smart fox taught all of the young 

animals at school, the mice kept the 

enormous elephants from hurting the 

smaller animals, and the sloths... were 

always resting.

The sloths were very important to the forest 

because their calming influence made sure that 

the other animals didn’t get too stressed or 

overwork themselves.   The sloths were a happy 

group, but all they did was sleep and hang out 

on their tree, using as little energy as possible.  

All of the sloths were like this, except for 

Ginger.   Ginger looked like all the other sloths, 

he talked like all the other sloths, and he even 

walked like all the other sloths, except for one 

big difference- he did everything faster.

Ginger hated to sit in a tree all day.   He would 

much rather box with the kangaroos, find 

acorns with the squirrels, or run away like the 

chickens.  

But mostly, Ginger loved to play the drums, 

he loved tapping the tom, booming the bass, 

and especially crashing the crash.  

Whenever the other sloths’ constant resting 

was boring Ginger, he would very carefully 

and quietly sneak down the tree.   When he 

would get to his drums, he sat down on his 

seat without making it creak, and...

“BOOM BAH BOOM BOOM BAH DUH DUH 

DADA GA GA GA GA GA GA CRASH!” 

“GINGER!”      Ginger looked up, it was his 

mother.   She did not look happy, and neither 

did the other sloths who had just woken up. 

“Ginger, your drums are too… loud, there’s 

no way we can sleep when you play them 

and you’re stressing us out.”

“Well maybe I’ll just have to find someone who 

likes my playing.” And so, Ginger and his 

drums went on a journey, to find someone in 

the Funford Forest that would appreciate them.  

First, Ginger walked along the river and found 

some beavers, hard at work.   “Would you like 

to listen to my drums, Mr. Beaver?” Ginger 

asked one of them. “Absolutely, as long as you 

don’t get in the way of our building.”

“OK,”   Ginger said with excitement.    

“BOOM BADA BABA BA BOOM, BOOM BADA 

BABA BA BOOM CRASH!”

“GINGER!”   It was Mr. Beaver, he didn’t look 

as happy as he was before.“When you play we 

can’t communicate with each other, and it 

makes our dam shake.   I’m sorry Ginger, it’s 

just too… loud.”

“OK.” And so Ginger kept searching the forest 

for someone who would like his playing.

Next, Ginger found a flock of chickens, 

squawking in a clearing. “Hi Chickens, can I 

play my drums for you?” 

“Of course you can, Ginger, we’d love it.”

“BA BA BAGA GA GA GA BOOM CRASH!” 

When Ginger looked up, he didn’t see any 

chickens.   They had all run off, startled by the 

sound.

“Wow, what a bunch of chickens,” Ginger said, 

and then he was off, again looking for 

someone who would like his playing.  

While walking through the forest, Ginger heard 

a sound he had never heard in his life.   It was 

beautiful, smooth, and oh so cool.   “The cats,” 

Ginger thought to himself, “they’ll like my 

music.”

So Ginger followed the sound and soon found a 

cat, wearing sunglasses and sitting at a piano. 

“Can I play drums with you?” Ginger asked. 

“Sure thing man, I’d love to jam, lay me down 

something cool...”

Now Ginger wanted to impress his new cat 

friend, so he played something extra loud, 

“BA DO BA DO BA DO BOOM DAGA GA GA DO 

DIGGIDY BOOM CRASH!” 

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