Ataraxia

He was plagued by a disturbed mental state, in that his mind was almost always perfectly relaxed. There were brief episodes of interruption over the course of the day, when he might eat a bit of sustenance or move an inch here or there. But even in these moments of excitement, his mind was preternaturally tranquil.

We would watch him for hours at a time, recording the slightest movements. On the one hand, we envied his peacefulness, and became more contemplative ourselves, but we still looked at him as something of a freak.

This was the life of a sloth.

Jake And The Chrononauts

Jake, the only remaining Chrononaut, skated to a stop on top of the telephone pole. He was out of bullets, and his knife had broken off in the helicopter propeller. Percival still clung to his back, but using the three-toed sloth as a weapon would be too risky, not to mention politically incorrect.

I never should have dropped that alligator.

The Baskerville hounds blocked his escape. The Redcoats advanced with precise timing, firing shots every five paces. And the Voodoo priestess was still alive, hiding somewhere in the catacombs.

Jake finally conceded trusting the Hitler clone had been a mistake.