In the hustle and bustle of the woodland corporate world, there was Theodore the tortoise. Most days, he trudged along at a snail’s pace, managing mushroom stocks, forest floor real estate, and god knows what else. Today was the annual woodland assembly, and damn, was he not prepared for it.
The sun was shining just right, the breeze gentle and teasing, hinting at the perfect nap weather. But Theodore? No rest for him. It was all “Theodore, did you check the mushroom statistics?” or “Theodore, we need the quarterly leaf decay report!”
By the time the meeting came around, Theodore was already done. Like, seriously fucking done. But he had his reputation. “I’m Theodore,” he’d pep-talked himself that morning, “I can do this.”
Bob the badger, the forest floor’s local bore, started the meeting. Oh, how he loved to hear himself talk. “Now, in the last quarter, the mushroom deficit…”
Theodore’s eyes glazed over. His thoughts drifted to his cozy burrow, packed with soft mud and ferns. His sturdy tortoise heart ached. He was exhausted from all the woodland drama, tired of the politics over which patch was the juiciest, or which critter nibbled on the communal berry bush.
He caught snippets of the meeting, mostly when someone said his name, and he’d jerk his head up, faking attentiveness. “Right, yes, mushroom redistribution is essential,” he’d mumble, not giving a single fuck about what he was agreeing to.
Every word from Bob’s mouth sounded like an invitation to visit dreamland. The mushroom graphs he projected might as well have been lullabies. It was becoming unbearable.
“Fuck it,” he whispered to himself.
As Bob droned on about some new-fangled berry storage technique, Theodore made a decision. He shuffled his papers, cleared his throat, and stood up (as much as a tortoise can stand up), interrupting Bob midsentence.
“I need a nap. No, I fucking need a nap,” Theodore declared, the exhaustion evident in his voice.
The assembly gasped. Bob looked like he’d been hit with a sledgehammer. But Theodore didn’t care. Without waiting for a reaction, he nestled down right there in the middle of the forest floor meeting room, shell providing the perfect protection.
Everyone stared, stunned into silence. It was Jeremy the jaybird who first broke out into applause. Soon, others joined in. They all got it. Every single damn critter in that room understood the need for a good nap.
By the time Theodore woke up, the assembly had turned into an impromptu nap fest. Creatures big and small, snuggled up, snoring away. Bob the badger was using his presentation board as a blanket.
Theodore smiled, stretched his legs as much as he could, and thought to himself, “Best fucking meeting ever.”
And thus, Theodore’s brave nap became legendary in the woodland corporate world. Meetings were shorter, nap breaks became mandatory, and everyone was happier for it. Because sometimes, what you really need is to say ‘fuck it’ and take that damn nap. The end.
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