"You can't even baa, you can't even bleat. You're ears are too big and so are your feet, Lambert!" The little lamb doubled over in laughter while another chimed in, complementing the tune.
"Your tail's to short and so is your wool; there isn't enough for one bag full!" The little lamb fell onto the other one, both of them bleating with laughter.
Lambert hung his head in shame; he tried so hard to be a good lamb, to romp and frolic and head butt his playmates. But they would have none of it; he was to different. And the problem was, he knew it too. He could never be one of them. With his head still hung low, he plodded away, a single tear escaping from his eyes.
He walked over to his mother, looking at her with sorrowful eyes. He sat down next to her, flicking his long tail restlessly as she gave him a bath. She smiled at him reassuringly, with a look only a mother could give her hurting child. She thought her son was the best thing in the world. But Lambert didn't agree; he got up, rubbing against his mother before heading to a secluded pond.
When he reached the pond a few minutes later, he scrambled on top of a rock, sitting down, peering at his reflection in the water. A tear slowly slid down his cheek, creating tiny ripples, messing up his reflection. He looked at one of his paws, hiding it underneath him in embarrassment. As another tear fell, his ears perked up, catching a faint sound carried by the wind: "Lambert thinks that he can lick a dozen lambs alone!"
Lambert winced as another sound was carried on the breeze: "but he can't! He's no sheep; he's not one of us."
"Yeah!" The other lambs chimed in, before bleating into laughter again. Lambert looked at his reflection again, letting the tears fall freely this time. He couldn't baa, he couldn't bleat. He was a lion, yet…he was nothing but a coward. He hastily wiped the tears away with a big hairy paw. He couldn't stay here anymore; the lamb's teasing hurt to much and his mother? He smiled, then frowned. His mother didn't understand; she never would.
With newfound resolve, he hopped off the rock, landing in the pond with a splash. He shook himself off, then started running for the woods, not daring to look back.
"Hiya Dumbo! How's it goin?" Timothy walked up to Dumbo, waving cheerfully. Dumbo turned around, glaring at the little mouse; it was Timothy's fault he had these bruises and bumps all over his head. Timothy's big idea to make Dumbo the climax of last night's show had backfired horribly. Dumbo had tripped on his overgrown ears, only to crash into the pyramid of elephants, sending them flailing dangerously around the circus tent.
Because of Timothy, Dumbo's elephant herd had completely shut him out. Not that his ears were any help either; the elephant herd had laughed at him from the beginning. Dumbo raised his trunk, gently rubbing a bruise.
"What's a matter Dumbo?" Dumbo turned back around, ignoring his friend. "Aww, come on Dumbo; they're just a bunch of overblown pachyderms." He scrambled up on top of Dumbo's head. "You don't need them; besides, I got a new job for you."
Dumbo gently lifted Timothy off the top of head, placing him on the ground so he could see him; he waited expectantly.
"Okay, here it is: you're a baby. A big clown baby who has to be saved! You get rescued! By the clown fire brigade!" Timothy put his hands out, as if to say ta-da! "So, whaddya think? Pretty neat huh?"
Without thinking, Dumbo lifted Timothy off his feet, tossing him into a nearby pile of hay. He had had enough of Timothy's schemes, enough of his big ideas. Humiliation by a clown fire brigade was the last thing he needed.
Timothy popped his head out of the hay in surprise. He stared at Dumbo in confusion. "Gee, what'd I do?"
Dumbo grabbed his hat off a nearby hook, stalking out of the tent, heading toward the woods. He didn't need Timothy; he didn't need anybody.
"Dumbo! Wait! Dumbo! Come back!" Timothy raced toward the tent flap…but Dumbo was already gone.