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Ma: Timon! Excuse me. Have you seen my son? Has he been through here? Timon!Uncle Max: Digga tunnah, dig, digga tunnah... digga tunnah, dig, dig—Aaaah! [Ma pokes him, scaring him out of his chant]Ma:Uncle Max?Uncle Max: [spooked] Aaahh!Ma:Uncle Max, relax. Have you seen Timon?Uncle Max: [pleased with himself] No, I haven't—and what a day it's been! No fractures, no lacerations, no concussions, contusions or injuries of any sort. As a matter of fact, there's no sign of Tee-mon's handiwork anywhere![The ceiling cracks and then comes crashing down around them, light streaming in all around; finally there's nothing left of the tunnel but a ring of dirt held up on a narrow protrusion, with Timon standing under it]Uncle Max: [fuming] That would be... TEE-MON!!!Timon: [embarrassed] Heh heh heh. Hey, everybody!Meerkat1: Ha ha. Nice work, Timon.Meerkat2: Way to go, tunnel klutz.Meerkat3: Who else could break a hole?!Fred: Four in a week—a new record!Ma:[quietly despairing] Not again.Timon: What? [defiantly] It's called a "skylight"![The "skylight" crumbles to nothing]Ma: [trying to salvage the situation] Ho ho. Wow! Isn't that creative? A *skylight...!* Oh, ha ha. [seeking discretion as the better part of valor] I'll just have a word with him.[Ma leads Timon away from the scene of the collapse]Timon: I... I was just trying to shed a little light on our pathetic existence.Ma: Timon, this can't go on. Just this month, you've pulled down four walls and collapsed two tunnel exits. [She combs Timon's hair] We have to look after each other. Our survival depends on it.Timon: What's the point? All we do is dig so we can hide, and hide so we can dig. [Ma finishes combing his hair, which "poofs" up into a bunch of spikes] I wanna be where we don't have to dig tunnels and live with our heads stuck in the sand. [pushes some grass apart and gazes out over the horizon] What's so bad about dreaming of a better home?Ma: [joins him at the gap in the grass] I wanna show you something. Look, Timon. Go on, look. [Camera pulls back to a panoramic view of the Pride Lands in all their golden-lit majesty, as the "This Land" theme plays] Look out to the horizon, past the trees, over the grasslands. Everything the light touches... [sharply] belongs to someone else![A record needle scratches; the grasses snap back together and block the view]Timon: Funny. I thought you were going a whole different direction with this.Ma: What can I say? It's nature's design.Uncle Max: [appears out of the grass suddenly] She's right! We're food for other animals—a moveable feast. Feared by no one and eaten by all!Timon: But when they die, they become the grass. And we eat the grass... right?Uncle Max: Not exactly; we can't digest grass. We're grass intolerant.Ma: [snatches Timon away] Ok, Max. *Thank* you. You've been a big help. [To Timon] Honey, I—Uncle Max: [appearing out of another stand of grass] Meerkat! It's what's for dinner!Ma: [increasingly sarcastic; pointing meaningfully off into the distance] *Thank* you, Uncle Max.Uncle Max: [groans at the camera] Uhh. [disappears]

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