Breathing was a choir, that is something I did not want to admit as I could taste copper in my mouth as there was mind numbing pain everywhere. Things, they were a bit blurred as the sounds were very distant, And you know something? Your life does not flash before your eyes which is a fucking disappointment because there was some moments I would love to see again, like that time in Las Vegas where me and Pumbaa acted like Rouel Duke and that guy he was with when we found a few cocktail waitresses or that time I was driving down the san fran bridge in a buick doing over hundred while drunk on prime scotch.

Trailing off? Well that's because I'm dying, I know I'm dying and everyone else knows I'm dying a very painful death so forgive me a little if I am A). A little crude and be B). reminiscent of happier times because I am in a lot of fucking pain here!

Geez, this is what ya get when ya go off alone in the pridelands but I thought I was safe. Of course in truth it's not an everyday event when a pack of hyenas comes storming in and trying to kill everything in sight, I was just too slow to jump out of the way of one's jaws.

That reminds me, looking down I could see my own spine which was enough to make one pass out but not me. Not because I was brave but because my eye lids could have been torn off somewhere, or maybe I'm out cold and this is just an out of body experience like the one in Texas with that guy who dressed like an stereotype Indian Chief, he wasn't Indian nor a chief and was sitting in the middle of a empty lot surrounded by buildings but man was that a wild week.

I am Bono, those words were I yelled while exposing myself to some lioness in Dallas zoo during those times. Why did that pop into my head was unexplained but I liked it, a happy, if not very fuzzy, memory before I kick the bucket.

Coughing, spitting up more blood I could see my friends rushing me somewhere as Simba's wife was both scared and angry. She could be yelling; "damn it, he's bitten in half and ain't no way of saving him." which Simba could be replying, "damn it woman, I'm a doctor, not a thingy-mabob!" or the sorts.

I rolled my head back, or did I? How cares when one is in this kind of pain, how much more discomfort can one be in? Hitting a bump had answered me, damn whatever I was riding in/on.

'Kay, so to recap my thoughts. Hyenas, me, apart and going to see Uncle Jimmy that damn drunkard bastard. Okay, so things are in order. Now for one very last thought before thoroughly dying, turning my head a little I could see some of my friends crying and all I could think.

Nala's got a nice rack.

-I-I-I-I-I-

The smell of bleach and blood filled my nose while I slowly moved, my head was screaming like a heavy metal vocalist. I couldn't feel my arms to well while my eyes slowly opened into the bright light. "Simba?" my voice sounded horsed and unusual, "Pumbaa? Where are you guys?"

The light moved away as a blurred figure stood over me, from the smell and the rows of white teeth I could tell it was Simba. "You're awake, I was beginning thinking that it didn't work." I rolled my head around a little as I tried really hard to focus my eyes, some thing were coming into detail like my body being covered in a white sheet and the hospital bed. The kingy moved around the room, "it was even a miracle that there was anything left to save after," Simba's voice trailed off a bit as I could hear him clear his throat. "How do you feel?"

"Like a elephant had run me over," I answered the most cleaned up version of what I wanted to say. In truth I felt like that same elephant picked me up than ate me, shit me out and stomped on me for a while. "Simba, what's going on?"

I could see the silhouette of Simba shifting, he was standing towards the darkened part of the room. Near the strange machines that I couldn't make heads or tails over, the boy did and he does quiet well. I often forget what course he took in his time in collage but I knew it had a lot of machines involved. "You see, there had been an incident."

"Being eaten," I scoffed. "I guess that would count as an incident."

Then it hits me, why is Simba acting strange and why is my body so hard to use. It all suddenly made such clear sense to me, being chewed on by those hyenas and the fact there was no way in hell that I could have been saved. So the facts were clear, Simba had gone all Dr. Frankenfurter on me and patched my body back together. "Oh gods," I shouted as loud as I can with my sore voice. "Where's the bolts!"

As I pat myself down Simba had quickly came over and held my shoulders while repeating my name over and over again, I slowed down as he looked me into my eyes. "Timon," he started. "There is no bolts, but I." he trailed off for the moment before finding the right words. "I did resurrect you from the dead, it took me over a year after so many experiments and trying to find the right combination."

"Simba," I could only whisper after my outburst. "Why are you smaller?" Simba's paws were smaller, I could feel my shoulders barely fill his meaty palms.

"Okay, here's the thing." He held me a bit tighter, I did not like how this was going. "You were badly injured, I mean you were torn apart and since there really weren't many dead meerkats just hanging around I used the next best thing."

"Mongoose?" I asked.

"Not enough."

"A house cat?"

"Couldn't find one." Simba slowly let go of me, "you see I had no choice but to use the only thing I could find at hand that on one had eaten on that day, which happened to be... Well just take a look."

I slowly gripped the cover and swung them back, I could not hold back my shock and words around the kid.

"What the fuck!"

"I tried very hard to save your body," he kept on going like nothing was happening. "But as I said there was too much damage to fix it, and there was no nearby Meerkats to patch your old body together so I had to use the only corpses available."

I was too stunned to speak, my sleek, small meerkat body that had been there since literarily the beginning wasn't there no more. Instead was the white furred and black spotted body, I could just stare in horror at what I have become.

A hyena.

As I just sat there kept on saying "fuck" every two seconds while staring at my paws Simba was calmly standing there with his front paws behind his back before interrupting my fuck fest, "I know it's going to take some time to adjust to this new life style but trust me, with therapy and some time you can life a normal, if not slightly outcast, life. I'll leave you alone for now." Simba smiled at me before leaving, I could see a door opening and spilling some light into this dark room showing me some of the odd equipment before plunging the back into the dim lighting that surround only my bed.

Time to adjust, it was an understatement. In fact it was the mother of all understatements. How could I live as a species that not only killed me but hunted my kind for centuries, and one that Simba hates with a burning passion.

I shifted a bit while lifting up the sheet for a second look at my body I noticed something. Maybe it was not all bad, I was pretty well hung.