Hey there, and welcome back to the Lion King novel. There will actually be a three-parter of sorts for the Timon and Pumbaa chapters. Once the next chapter ends, we'll get back to the more serious nitty-gritty stuff. But if you do want to get to the more serious stuff instead, please let me know.

There's going to be a reference to The Lion Guard here, though not in a way that anyone might expect. I'll explain at the start of next chapter because I don't wanna give away the surprise. Believe it or not, there will also be a few nods to when The Lion King was going to be King Of The Jungle in 1990.

Uploading Date: August 22, 2019

Enjoy!

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Hakuna Matata

Once they got back to the shade, Timon and Pumbaa had Simba settled down in a bush. It felt a lot more comfortable than the sand, that was for sure. Pumbaa was holding a branch with his tusks and snout and fanning Simba with it, while Timon helped trim his claws. His claws had ached from not being sharpened in a long time.

Simba still felt hungry, but at least he had had some water and a decent grooming. Finding food wouldn't probably be that hard with Timon and Pumbaa around.

"What's that you said earlier?" Simba asked, leaning forward. "Hakuna Matata?"

"Yeah," said Pumbaa. "It's our motto!"

"What's a motto?" Simba pressed on.

"Nothing? What's a motto with you?" Timon joked and laughed. "Boom!"

"Nice!" Pumbaa cheered, laughing before turning back to Simba. "You know, kid, these two words will solve all your problems."

Timon nodded. "That's right. Take Pumbaa here. Why..." He ran over and climbed up to sit atop Pumbaa's head. "When he was a young warthog..."

"When I was a young wart...HOOOOOOOOG!" Pumbaa sang loudly. He sang so loud that the oasis seemed to rumble, and Simba felt his ears ache.

At this, Timon reached down and patted his forehead. "How do you feel?"

"It's an emotional story," replied Pumbaa with a sheepish grin.

"I know. Very nice vocal chords, though."

"Thanks."

Simba pulled himself out of the bushes, interested. Pumbaa seemed like a sensitive soul, even though he looked thick-skinned.

"Well, for starters..." Pumbaa backed away from them, looking behind them as he wriggled his rear. "...let's say that I give other animals a wide berth. It hurt when my friends never stood downwind."

"Oh come on, I resent that," Timon scoffed. "I was always there for you! Layman's terms is," he added with a smirk to Simba, "his aroma can clear the savannah after every meal. In other more gross words, he can stink pretty bad. His farts are bad enough to knock a crocodile out cold."

"I don't know about that, Timon," said Pumbaa, a grin on his snout. "I think the scent's good once someone gets used to it. It announces my prescence."

"And boy, does it!" Timon replied, fanning the air with a paw, and the two laughed.

Simba wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. These two were friendly, yet they were really weird. "What about you?" he asked Timon.

"Me? I didn't fit in with the meerkat colony I was born into," Timon said, having the air of a soldier that had traveled and fought for a long time. "I was always collapsing tunnels and goofing off on sentry duty. Almost everyone got mad at me, especially my Uncle Max, who trusted me with it. And to be honest, all we did was dig so we could hide, and hide so we could dig. But ever since I left the colony, I've had no worries because I could finally look beyond what I can see."

Pumbaa perked his head. "Isn't that what the blue-faced monkey told you to do? You told me about the monkey."

Timon scoffed. "Oh yeah, sure. Just do what the blue-faced monkey tells you, and things will be just gravy!"

"What monkey?" Simba asked, curious. He remembered something about a certain blue-faced monkey.

"Never mind that," said Timon. "Anyway, we'll show you where we live. Follow us."

So Timon and Pumbaa led the way through the undergrowth of the oasis. The desert behind them was fading away until it disappeared behind the shadows of the oasis's trees. Due to starving, however, he started lagging behind. Pumbaa noticed this, so he and Timon went back to help encourage him to keep moving.

While they walked, Timon and Pumbaa started singing. It was about their Hakuna Matata lifestyle, and it was called - of course - "Hakuna Matata". It was their problem-free philosophy, as they sang. Simba couldn't help but smile as they sang and danced, and he eventually joined in. His spirits were starting to go back up, and he sang merrily along with Timon and Pumbaa.

After having walked enough, the two friends stopped before a wall of giant leaves. They cleared it away, and Simba now stood in awe, looking out what was before him. It was a vast jungle, with waterfalls, a few mountains, and obviously lots of trees. Flowers of every color bloomed here and there, from small yellow flowers to giant red ones the size of a rhino. While the Pride Lands were beautiful, it had a more realistic tone to it, turning green during the wet season and brown during the dry season. But this jungle looked like something out of a dream; it was paradise.

"Well, kid," said Timon with a grin, "welcome to our humble abode."

"You live here?" Simba asked in amazement.

Timon nodded. "Yep. We live wherever we want here."

"Do as we please," Pumbaa added. "Home is where your rump rests."

Simba couldn't stop staring around at the jungle before him. "It's beautiful," he murmured. Perhaps there was something about the Hakuna Matata lifestyle after all.

The friends led Simba on through the jungle, down a path they had taken many times before, until they arrived at a clearing. A big tree dominated the back of the clearing, its branches and leaves providing much shelter. Several animals were grazing or chatting peacefully, some Simba had seen before and other species that were new to him. A bush baby was clinging to a tree branch, an elephant shrew was sniffing the bark for a treat, and two guineafowl perched on a branch opposite the bush baby, gossiping. Below them, antelopes called duiker grazed, an aardvark sniffed the ground, and a bat-eared fox tried getting a grumpy honey badger to play with her.

Timon and Pumbaa called a hello to the animals, and they returned it with a happy greeting (even though the honey badger grumbled it). But when Simba came out from behind them to say hello, they shouted in fear and started to take cover, while only the honey badger remained, growling.

"Hey, don't worry. He's our new friend Simba. He won't hurt a fly," Timon reassured the other animals as they peeked out. "Simba, meet everyone. There's Bhati the bat-eared fox, Daabi the aardvark, and - "

"That, my friend, is a lion!" squawked one of the guineafowl. "A lion's in the jungle!"

"What about food? Have you thought about feeding that thing?" squeaked the bush baby, interrupting Timon.

Pumbaa came to Simba's defense when he saw the cub flinch. "Yeah. We've got an idea."

"He dooks snorda derocious," remarked the aardvark named Daabi. She had a sort of dopey appearance and a slurred vocabulary to boot.

The fox named Bhati poked her head out from the bushes. "I don't know, Daabi. He looks like a cute little guy."

"What's a lion doing here anyway?" the honey badger snarled, his voice deep and harsh. His black-and-white fur bristled, and he bared his teeth.

Simba was surprised to see a honey badger in the jungle. He had heard about them being ferocious predators, able to face down anything that came their way. Perhaps a honey badger could even face down a whole wildebeest stampede.

"Come on, back up, Bunga. He's just a cub," Pumbaa argued, gently nudging the badger. "Even you can't argue with that."

"Honey badger don't care," growled the badger named Bunga, scooting away from Pumbaa. "Lions are nothing but trouble."

Timon tilted his head sideways. "Your species can be dangerous too, Bunga, but you're cool."

Bunga grumbled something, but then he shrugged his broad shoulders. "Eh, I can't argue with that," he said, changing his tune to an arrogant attitude. "We honey badgers are pretty awesome."

All of a sudden, Pumbaa let out an extremely loud burp, the burp echoing in the jungle. "I'm starved!" he declared, and the bat-eared fox named Bhati tried imitating the burp.

"So am I," Bunga said, getting up from his spot. "I'm so hungry, I can eat you two. Let's go eat."

"Me too," said Simba. "I'm so hungry, I can eat a whole zebra."

The other animals gasped when they heard Simba say that. One of the guineafowl actually fainted and fell from the branch she roosted on.

Immediately, Timon jumped onto Pumbaa's back while they walked. "Er...oh boy, here we go," he said with a nervous chuckle, "Listen, kid...we're fresh out of zebra."

Simba frowned. His belly was roaring even louder than Mufasa's roar. He didn't care if what he had to eat wasn't his favorite, as long as he finally got to eat.

"Then what about antelope?" Simba asked, and an antelope flinched and gulped.

"Nuh-uh."

"Hippo?"

"Nope," said Timon with another shake of his head. "Simba, if you wanna live with us, then you have to eat like us."

"And more importantly, not eat us," added the elephant shrew.

Timon looked to the left and held up a paw, signaling for Pumbaa to stop. "Speaking of eat, this looks like a good place to rustle up some grub."

They spun to the left and headed towards a log. It looked like it was rotting for a long time, broken in some places. Simba was confused. How was this a good place for good food? It wasn't big enough to hide a zebra or an antelope, and it definitely would not hide a hippo.

When they got there, Pumbaa started using his tusks to tear apart the log. Simba watched the other animals run past him to help Pumbaa break apart the log, Bhati using her teeth and Bunga and Daabi using their claws. Even the bush baby joined in, gnawing at the edges with his own teeth. A crack crunched from the log, and they were able to get the log open easier now.

As Bunga helped peel open the bark from the log, Simba got to see what was under the bark. What looked like insects were crawling and creeping around. They were of different colors, shapes, and sizes. Some looked fat and juicy-looking, while others looked thin and crunchy. Some had wings and hard shells, and he was sure that a few even had pincers.

"What is it?" Simba asked, though he did not really want to know.

"A grub," grumbled Bunga. "A whole nest of 'em. What's it look like?"

Simba grimaced. "Eww. Gross!"

"No, it's not 'gross'!" Timon said with a grin. To Simba's disgust, he pulled a fat one out and slurped it up like it was nothing. "See? It tastes like chicken."

The other animals dived right in for the feast. The elephant shrew got a big juicy grub between his teeth, the bush baby shoved one grub into his mouth at a time, and Bunga shoveled more into his mouth with a paw. Daabi, Bhati, and the guniea fowl ate as well, even the plant-eating duiker nabbing a grub or two. As for Timon and Pumbaa, they sat at the center of the "table", eating to their hearts' content.

Simba, however, almost felt like throwing up. Whatever appetite he had was slowly going away. All the times he had been picky about eating impala, and now he found it to be tastier than...this.

Now he wasn't sure if the Hakuna Matata lifestyle was for him after all. He couldn't imagine even eating a grub, let alone living off of them. Timon and Pumbaa were friendly, but the other animals didn't seem to like him due to being a lion. More than ever, he wished that he was back at home at Pride Rock, playing with Nala and nestling closer to his mother. And most of all, he missed his father.

Back at the feast, the animals were talking with each other as they ate. Simba flicked his ears to hear them better.

Timon found one grub and grinned. "Ah, these are rare delicacies," he declared and took a bite from it. "Piquant...with a very pleasant crunch."

"This one's got the nuttiness!" the elephant shrew squeaked.

"These are extra crunchy," mumbled one of the duikers.

"Yeah, I hear they're local," replied Bhati.

"Oh, are they, Bhati?"

"They're from right there."

"Bet I can beat you birds in an eating contest," Bunga challenged the guineafowl.

"You're on, muscles!" squawked one of them.

"Slimy yet satisfying!" declared Pumbaa happily, slurping down a big grub. He ate some more and then turned to Simba, who recoiled from seeing him eating grubs up close, as he declared, "You'll learn to love 'em!"

Timon wiped his mouth with his paw and smiled up at Simba. "I'm telling ya, kid, this is the great life. We can do anything we want all day long, every single day. There's no rules, no responsibilities - "

"Ooh, there's the one with the very pleasant crunch!" the bush baby cheered as he munched on. "You're right, Timon, these are great!"

"Yeah bight," Daabi replied. "Be cream-billed ones are de dest. Banna try done?"

" - and best of all, no worries," Timon continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. He and the other animals stepped aside so that Simba could have a taste. "Well?"

Simba approached the log, picking up a fat grub, and the other animals were watching him with a keen eye. He knew that he wasn't at Pride Rock anymore, Timon and Pumbaa weren't his family and old friends, and the grub was definitely not a zebra. But a life of no worries, rules, or responsibilities did sound pretty good. This was going to be his life from now on, eating all day and relaxing his life away.

"Oh well," he mumbled, bringing the grub closer. "Hakuna Matata."

So he tried the grub and put it in his mouth. Only...it didn't taste so bad after all. He swallowed, and it actually tasted even better going down.

"Slimy yet satisfying," he declared with a smile.

"That's the spirit," Timon said with a wink, while the other animals cheered. "Kid, this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

And with that, everyone continued their feast. This time, though, Simba joined them.

Thus, Simba grew up in the jungle, far away from the Pride Lands. He loved eating as much grubs as he wanted and the Hakuna Matata lifestyle. Timon and Pumbaa helped him learn how to survive, but they made it fun by singing carefree songs and making a game out of it. Simba felt a lot better and eventually got over the death of his father, enjoying life.

Everyday, he would visit the other animals in the jungle, who now greeted him as an old friend. No longer did they hide for cover; in fact, every time Simba visited Bunga, the honey badger would challenge him to wrestling. The other animals admired Simba for his positive attitude and friendly nature, not knowing his grim past. Whenever they wanted to play a game with him or hang out, Simba was there. Whenever they needed a favor, he was ready to do it. Whenever a predator hunted them, Simba drove that predator away with a growl.

As Timon said, it was the good life. Simba spent his days eating, sleeping, playing, and goofing around. There were no rules, no responsibilities, and especially no worries.

To be continued...