Deep in the jungle, where the trees were so tall they tickled the clouds, something very strange was happening. Every single thing was giggling.
The waterfall was giggling. The mud was giggling. Even Tobias the extremely serious tortoise — who had not laughed once in forty-seven years — was giggling so hard his shell was shaking.
Nobody knew why. And nobody was more annoyed about it than Milo.
Milo was a small, round monkey with enormous ears and an even more enormous opinion of himself. He had woken up that morning ready for a very important day. He was going to eat the biggest, yellowest, most magnificent banana in the entire jungle. He had spotted it three days ago, high up in the Twisty Fig Tree, and he had been thinking about it ever since.
But when he reached out to grab it — the banana giggled, slipped right out of his hand, and bounced away down the hill.
"Oh, COME ON," said Milo.
He chased after it. The banana bounced left. It bounced right. It bounced straight through a bush and came out the other side looking very pleased with itself.
Milo skidded to a stop in front of a large purple parrot named Priscilla, who was sitting on a low branch laughing so hard she kept falling off and climbing back up again.
"Priscilla!" said Milo. "What is happening? Why is everything giggling?"
Priscilla fell off her branch again. "HA! HA! It's — HA — the Giggling Seed!" She climbed back up. "HA! Someone dropped a Giggling Seed in the middle of the jungle and now — HA HA HA — everything within a mile is — HA — completely, utterly, totally tickled!"
"A Giggling Seed?" said Milo. "How do we stop it?"
"You have to find it and — HA — put it back in the Golden Pod where it belongs! But — HA HA — nobody can get close to it because — HA — every time you do, you start laughing too hard to — HA HA HA —" Priscilla fell off her branch again.
Milo crossed his arms. He was not going to let a seed beat him. He was Milo. He was clever. He had enormous ears, which he felt made him look distinguished.
He marched toward the centre of the jungle. The closer he got, the more the ground jiggled under his feet, like it was being tickled from below. A family of flamingos staggered past him, all laughing, tripping over each other's legs, and bumping into trees.
Then Milo felt it.
It started in his toes. A tiny, fizzy, bubbly feeling. Then it crept up to his knees. Then his tummy. Then — oh no — his ears started to wiggle.
"Heh," said Milo, very quietly.
He clamped his hands over his mouth.
"Heh heh," said Milo, slightly louder.
He sat down on a log and squeezed his eyes shut.
"HEH HEH HEH HA HA HA HA HA!"
He fell right off the log.
He lay there on the jungle floor, laughing at absolutely nothing, staring up at the leaves, laughing at those too, laughing at a beetle walking past, laughing at his own feet.
This went on for quite some time.
Finally, with enormous effort, Milo rolled over and looked around. There, right in the middle of a clearing, was the Giggling Seed. It was small and round and golden, and it was spinning slowly in the air, glowing, and occasionally letting out a little "hee hee hee" all by itself.
Milo had a plan. A very good plan. Possibly his best plan ever.
He crawled back through the jungle, still giggling uncontrollably, until he found Tobias the tortoise.
"Tobias," said Milo, "I need your shell."
Tobias, who was lying on his back giggling at the sky, managed to say, "My shell is attached to me, you ridiculous monkey."
"I need you inside your shell," said Milo. "It's the only part of the jungle not giggling."
Tobias thought about this. Tobias thought slowly, the way tortoises do. Then he pulled all four legs, his tail, and his head inside his shell. The giggling stopped. From inside came a very muffled, dignified voice: "I am ready."
Milo picked up Tobias, held the shell over his own head like a helmet, and marched back into the clearing.
It worked. Mostly.
His feet were still giggling. His tail was still wiggling. He was making small "heh" noises that he couldn't stop. But he could walk. He could think. He could reach out his hand.
Closer. Closer. The Giggling Seed spun and glowed and went "hee hee hee."
"Heh heh heh," agreed Milo, involuntarily.
He grabbed it.
The whole jungle let out one enormous, ground-shaking, sky-rattling, bird-scattering LAUGH — and then went completely silent.
Not a giggle. Not a heh. Not a hoo. Silence.
Tobias poked his head out. "Is it over?"
"It's over," said Milo.
He walked to the old hollow tree at the edge of the clearing, where a small golden pod hung from the lowest branch, open and waiting. He dropped the seed inside. The pod snapped shut with a soft, satisfied click.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Then Priscilla landed on a branch above him. "You did it! HA — oh. Oh, I'm still doing it a bit."
"That'll wear off," said Tobias wisely. He had no idea if that was true, but it sounded right.
Milo looked around the jungle. The waterfall was flowing normally. The mud was just mud. The flamingos were untangling their legs with great seriousness. And somewhere up in the Twisty Fig Tree, one large yellow banana was sitting very, very still, hoping nobody had noticed what it had done earlier.
Milo noticed. He climbed up, grabbed it before it could so much as snicker, and took the biggest, most satisfying bite he had ever taken in his life.
It was delicious. It tasted like victory. It tasted like adventure. It tasted, just faintly, like a giggle — but he decided not to mention that part.
Tobias looked up at him from the ground. "Well done, Milo."
Milo grinned, banana in hand, ears wiggling in the warm jungle breeze. "I know," he said. "I usually am."