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She never had ears, and loved the smell of burning hair.  One day she was busy working on the farm, counting dead rats, when her father was accidentally shot with a crossbow.  And after dozens of unsuccessful attempts to revive him by pouring putrid water down his throat she realized she would need to find a new place to live and lay her stench eggs for the coming season's fertilization.

Naturally Thumbles was unable to travel by train, due to her fear of luggage, and elected to brave the thicket forests on foot in search of her Portuguese salvation.  The days went by without notice, and suddenly the thicket forests opened to reveal a large stone ring with eleven hobos gambling on grunting competitions.  Seeing an opportunity to gain the trust of the hobo clan and use it to further her pilgrimage, Thumbles wagered seven rat pelts and won an off-road unicycle, a naval sextant, and seven human teeth by bellowing six day's worth of bellows all at once.  The hobos scratched a likeness of her silhouette on the side of a junkyard car door for the purposes, in her best estimation, for future worship.

With this sizable victory behind her, Thumbles navigated quickly through the painful thicket forest and found herself inside a Portuguese penguin reserve, where the penguins were mostly dying from the lack of icebergs.  Unable to leave the reserve without the penguins after one had saved her injured foot during an automobile accident, Thumbles led a procession of the flightless beasts to the nearest elementary school cafeteria where they hoped to find a suitable refrigeration environment to relieve the avian fatigue.

Once the birds had been secured, they gifted to Thumbles one handful raisins, complete with raisin-eating gloves.  Little did Thumbles know, however, that the very gloves now in her possession were recently used in a local home invasion that resulted in the bludgeoning death of four children.  It was when she was picked up for lewd exposure in Copenhagen that the gloves were tied to the brutal crime, and charges of infanticide were levied against her, and she was set to execution, ironically, by crossbow firing squad.

And so ended the short but brilliant life of Thumbles, the enthusiastic, limbless creature that is best known for bludgeoning small children to death.  They say that in the thicket forests of southern Portugal late at night you can still hear the squeals of the penguins.  They cry out for her, anguished in guilt for the knowledge that she died for their crimes.  And that is why my father won't even allow a picture of a penguin anywhere near his national chain of daycare centers.