Took me a while to find my usual answer to this question.
Clearly, in a remote nebula, in a world many light years hence, there was small biped with a very serious headache and visions of a tattered cardboard box, (something this creature had never seen) with the words "cigarpass.com" printed neatly on the return address label. Standing 3'4" inches and covered in minklike fur it rubbed the matted hair above its' luminous upper eye and muttered, "baccy". Liking the sound of this new word it began to howl, "aaaa...baccy, aaaa...baccy, aaaa...baccy", and it was the last sound our little friend ever heard as a rare Trudgeon Bird swooped down, grasped the little fellows' hoof in its toothy beak, flipped him into the air and swallowed him whole in a single gulp. There was the sound of a resounding belch as the bird trudged away being too heavy to fly after eating, while it muttered about its ill fitting shoes.
That was the end of my first life, now I'm here. Fuggin' Trudgeon Birds.
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