Sammy wasn't feeling well.
Sammy had bird flu. And whilst he didn't feel well, he decided it was better to do something productive with his beautiful day, rather than waste it feeling sorry for himself.
However, if Sammy had known that there were plenty of other animals simply waiting to impart such symptoms as vomiting and severe diarrhoea, he would have never ventured from his magical bed of slumber.
As a happy unicorn, despite his illness, Sammy enjoyed conversing with his fellow Flowery Forest dwellers with such orders of the day as pancakes made with water from the fountain of youth, and Bonzo, the diabetic albatross.
The first friend that Sammy encountered was Willy, the green squirrel, against whom all the other woodland creatures were slightly discriminative towards.
'Good morning, Willy, you green little scamp. I almost didn't see you there, hidden in the grass,' said Sammy.
'Shut yer goddam dirty mouth!' retaliated Willy, angry that he was being picked on by a baby blue pansey.
'Well, that's not very- Argh!' Sammy let out a cry as Willy lept up to his throat, ripping a chunk of tasty flesh from his neck, blue blood spurting to the ground.
'Oh no! You dirty green squirrel!' cried Sammy. 'You've given me squirrel flu!' He watched Willy scamper off, becoming hidden amongst the green grass of the Flowery Forest.
Sammy decided it would probably be best to check in with Pratty, the doctor turtle, who had a history in the RAF.
'Morning Pratty!' said Sammy, who was getting slightly dizzy. 'I think I've got the flu, you have to help me!'
Pratty let out a terrible cough. 'You're not ... the only one,' he said. 'I've got ... the flu too. It reminds ... me of my ... time in ... 'Nam.' Pratty looked off into the distance. 'It was a cold night ... and I was throwing up all over the place ...'
Sammy didn't have any time to lose, now that he had probably contracted turtle flu too. He decided to go and buy some medicine from the local pharmacist.
'You don't need medicine!' cried Abdul, the friendly Indian who worked behind the counter. 'You need lots of fluids and plenty of bed-rest.'
'You're right!' said Sammy.
As he was heading home, excited to recover from bird, squirrel and turtle flu, he passed Oinky the sheep, Moomoo the pig and Mr Baa the cow, all spluttering with the flu. Sammy realised that he now probably had sheep, cow and swine flu, meaning that he overall was suffering from six types of flu.
Making it home, Sammy searched the house for liquids, finding only his father's most expensive vodka.
Taking a shot, unaware of the harm it would do, Sammy threw it back up, following it with another, to settle his stomach.
Taking the bottle to bed to ensure he wouldn't get de-hydrated, Sammy fell into a spiral of depression, vomit and alcohol.
The next day, his friends came round to ensure he was okay: Willy the squirrel, Pratty the turtle, Abdul the friendly Indian, Oinky the sheep, Moomoo the pig, and Mr Baa the cow.
They found Sammy's mutilated body, drenched in his own vomit, an empty vodka bottle next to his bed.