There was a war. Before everything that we know of Happy Tree Friends came to be, there was a war.

Yes, it is the war that we see brief moments of in Flippy's many flashbacks. But contrary to the popular belief, it did not take place in Vietnam. Nor was Flippy the only Tree Friend to take part in it.

No one was quite sure who started it; they only knew that the survivors, whether they Tree Friends or the Evil Generics, would never age, and they would come back whenever they died. But there was a catch, of course, as with all things. They would die frequently, and often painfully. This unnamed war shaped much of what we see in HTF now.

How do you think Handy lost his arms? And Mole, his sight? Mime, his voice? Why do you think Lumpy is the dim-witted fool with crooked antlers that we see all the time? Surely it can't have to do with the battle tank that creamed him in the head and turned his left antler askew. Or could it? The war was what killed Pop's wife, Mum, lost Russell his eye and left paw, and turned Flaky into the pitiable creature you see now. And yes, the famous Nutty. An ever-popular animal among HTF fans, for his incessant love for sugar. But unlike us, Nutty doesn't like candy for the taste; rather, he loves it because the sugar rush helps him forget what he went through. The war was the full cause of everyone's problems, except for Flippy.

By now you must be thinking, WTF? Flippy is the worst out of all of them. Very true. But it wasn't wholly caused by the war. If you are confused, don't worry. All will be explained. The following is a collection of three stories involving individuals you know very well, and some that you've never met, and never will.

Brothers Forever: Shifty and Lifty's tale

You know them. The kleptomaniac raccoon brothers. "Masters of the five-finger discount". Whatever that is.

But they didn't always steal simply for the sake of stealing. During the war, they stole… I suppose you could say they stole for a good cause. They would sneak into the enemy camps and swipe guns and weapons, gaining some advantages for the Tree Friend side. And I must tell you one more thing before I begin to tell their story: they aren't twins. They're quintuplets. Allow me to explain:

XXX

Shifty and Lifty stayed a few paces ahead of their brothers. Of the five raccoons, the two of them were easily the quickest and slyest. Not as much could be said of the other three. Behind them, Swiftie was muttering to himself.

"Blasted sun's beating down on my back. It's a scorcher today, brothers," Swiftie complained hotly.

"Shut it!" Lifty warned. He rolled his eyes at Shifty, who returned the gesture enthusiastically.

Two sharp cracks reached Shifty's ears, followed by a curse from the culprit, Nifty. That was the fifth, the FIFTH time he had done that.

"Will you quit steppin' on twigs!" Swiftie snapped.

"Look who's talkin', Thomas," Nifty retorted. This jibe earned him a swat to the ears.

Shifty exchanged another exasperated glance with Lifty. The two of them were the closest out of all five of them, to the point of being able to practically read each other's minds and finish each other's sentences.

That's the trouble with being quints, Lifty's eyes said.

Tell me about it, Shifty agreed silently.

The other three continued to bicker in low tones, but in the forest silence, their "debate" was thunderous.

"Well at least I'm not an idiot like Thrifty!"

"Me? What's wrong with me?"

"Nifty's right, Thrif. What is that polka-dotted thing on your neck? Is that supposed to be a bow tie?"

"It was fifty percent off!"

"Where, at Claire's?"

"Shut up, Nifty! I just thought it was a great way to save money and look good."

"Look good? Don't make me laugh!"

"Who are you supposed to be, Bozo the Clown?"

"I swear to God, if I hear another word out of any of you, I'll drag the three of you back to the base by the ears, tie you together, and hang you upside down your feet!" Lifty growled, and the three fell into sullen silence. Shifty hid a smile; Lifty could really lay on the threats, even though he was the same age as the ones he was hounding.

Nifty couldn't resist a final dig at Swiftie, and it was probably his temper that sealed their fate. "Your stupid dialogue puns aren't even funny."

Shifty had heard the approaching enemy patrol, but Swiftie reacted to Nifty's taunt before he could be shut up.

"At least I can aim a gun properly!" Swiftie shot back.

"There you go, you're doin' it again!" Nifty smacked his forehead.

A voice rapped out sharply from the group of enemy Generics. "It's those five raccoons! Gimme a grenade, now!"

Lifty swore. "Run for it!"

None of them needed to be told twice, and for a moment, preservation instinct was the first and only thing on Shifty's mind. Aided by desperation and the fact that he had already been ready to flee, the young raccoon blew past his four brothers and dashed toward the border. And explosion from behind knocked him off his feet, tossing him against a tree trunk. He quickly grabbed the rough bark and scrambled up as he had seen Nutty do the other day. Voices of the enemies sounded from the forest floor below. Two soldiers, a beaver in a Major's uniform and a sturdy-looking gray squirrel wearing a pale greenish fedora, made their way through to where Shifty's brothers lay limp and motionless on the ground.

"Those raccoons were gonna steal our weapons again, Eddie!"

"Good thing we stopped 'em, eh, sir?

"I'll say."

"Major! Enemy troops just attacked! They're being led by that flying squirrel!"

"Blast it! Come on, Eddie."

"But sir! What about the other raccoon? There's only four here!"

"Why should I care? He's probably dead already."

The voices receded. Shifty half-climbed, half-fell down to the ground, landing with a scrabble and a thud.

With a strangled sob, the young raccoon stumbled to where Nifty was curled up, at the foot of a tree. His eyes were wide and blank, and the dust near his nose and mouth did not stir to give away a breath. Frantic, Shifty checked Thrifty. It was the same; two of his brothers were dead.

Swiftie stirred and groaned softly. Wild with hope, Shifty rushed to his side and slipped a paw under his head to cushion it from the hard ground. But one look in Swiftie's eyes was enough to tell him that there was nothing he could do.

"That's funny… I think I'm about to pass out…" Swiftie said faintly, and died.

With no more optimism left in the pit of his stomach, Shifty moved on to his final brother. Lifty, the one who always knew what to steal. Lifty, who could always tell what was on Shifty's mind. Lifty, who was… still alive? The wild hope returned.

With a grunt of effort, Shifty lifted his unconscious brother halfway off the ground and began laboriously dragging him along. Heaven help any enemy who tried to hinder him, Shifty thought as he hauled Lifty toward the border.

After a while, when friendly territory was in sight, Shifty allowed himself a brief, two-second breather. A twig snapped behind him.

Shifty spun around, ready with nothing but his bare paws to defend himself and his brother. It was Eddie, the squirrel in the green fedora.

Staring levelly at the squirrel, Shifty crouched protectively over Lifty. As if answering a silent threat, Eddie shrugged.

"I've never tried to kill anyone who couldn't fight back. I see no reason to start now," Eddie reassured him. Shifty relaxed slightly, but remained wary.

Eddie sighed and stepped forward until he stood in front of the raccoon. The older animal towered over him, but Shifty stood his ground.

"You lost today, kid," Eddie told him. "But that doesn't mean you have to like it." Then the squirrel did a strange thing. Slowly, he took off his fedora and placed it on Shifty's head. Then, turning, he vaulted away into the treetops.

Shifty later found out that Eddie deserted shortly afterward, and lived a slightly longer-than-normal lifespan for a squirrel. With superficial wounds, Lifty recovered fully, but only physically. Shadowed by the loss of their brothers, the two of them resolved to "take back from the world what the world took from them." They've been stealing ever since.

Fear Itself: Flaky's story

We all know Flaky as a timid, easily frightened little porcupine with a bad case of dandruff. She always had the dandruff, but there was a time (believe it or not) when she was a gung-ho, daring soldier who earned the rank of Sergeant.

She had a slightly older sister back then, a feisty red-gold porcupine known Lieutenant Prickly, at least during battles. The two of them looked out for each other constantly, and everyone knew that Flaky had developed a crush on a certain Corporal Flippy...

But they were still at war. And I'll bet many of you wonder about her odd fear of ducklings and chicks.

During a brief lull in the skirmishes, the enemy made the first move to attack. With the help of a low-flying airplane and a small parachute, they dropped a crate into the middle of the camp. The wooden box burst open, to reveal several dozen yellow baby chicks.

Scornful at what appeared to be a pitiful attempt at a show of force, Handy swaggered forward and reached forward to gather them up.

They attacked him without mercy. Flaky and Cuddles were just barely able to rescue him before they chewed his arms off completely. In the end, Nurse Mum, Pop's wife, was forced to amputate his arms. After this, never again would Flaky be able to look at a chick without screaming.

But the full reason for her fearfulness came much later, the day the war ended, when there were only a little more than one hundred soldiers on both sides. It happened before dawn one day, when she, Prickly, and Flippy got up for sentry duty.

And here, I must cut her story short, for it is here that her tale and Flippy's intertwine. I have already described this event through her eyes, so Flaky's story will continue later on in Flippy's.

The Five Stages of Grief: Flippy's story

Ah, Flippy. His homicidal tendencies bring me everlasting joy. This story is the longest out of all of them, but Flippy is the most interesting, in-depth character, isn't he? People say it is PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, that brings out his dark side. But no, far from it. Perhaps, after a heartfelt speech about moving on and maybe a few sessions of therapy, Flippy might have been all right had it not been for Cthulhu.

You've heard me speak of Cthulhu. In prior stories, I have used "Cthulhu" as the name for Flippy's "alter ego", shall we say. But Cthulhu is not a figment of Flippy's imagination, nor is he an alternate personality. Cthulhu is a true demon. He is everything you have seen of him and more.

Cthulhu is a monster, not the hideous tentacle-laden green beast you may read about in H.P. Lovecraft's famous tale, but he is a monster. He gave himself that name. (But, as Lucky said, "To say that name fits you perfectly would be a great injustice… to the monster, that is.") But more than anything he wanted to be able to wreak destruction on the Tree Friends. There was only one way to do that: find a suitable host. He found Flippy.

But little did Cthulhu know, there were drawbacks to possession process. For one thing, he found that once he was inside Flippy's head, he had no idea how to get out again. And for another, he did not know that Flippy would actually fight back. Only in the battlefield could he take hold of him and force him to kill. Of course, he was doing Flippy a favor. But once the adrenaline of fighting wore off, he would lose his grip over Flippy's actions again, and be forced to lie dormant in the back of Flippy's mind.

By this time, Flippy was fully aware that something was wrong, but he had no idea that he, Flippy of all people, arguably the friendliest creature in the forest, was possessed by a bloodthirsty demon. But he could keep the demon relatively in check. Why? Not even Flippy knew that his strongest defense came in the form of his kid brother, Teddy. But then the day came that Cthulhu was able to tighten his control over Flippy. And it was all because Teddy decided to join him, Flaky, and Prickly on patrol.

XXX

"Flippy! Flip, wake up!"

The bear's eyes snapped open. "What? What is it? Are we under attack?"

The porcupine, Prickly, shook her head, and her red-gold quills rattled. "No, we're fine, Flippy. We have dawn watch, remember?"

Flippy relaxed. "Oh. Okay. Hang on, I'm getting up." As he struggled out of his sleeping bag, he picked up his green beret from the floor of the tent and placed it carefully on his head. "Okay, I'm ready. Is Flaky up?"

"Yeah."

Following Prickly, Flippy crept carefully past his younger brother, Teddy, who seemed to be sound asleep. But when Flaky, Prickly, and Flippy started into the woods to inspect the borders, Teddy came trotting out. He twirled his hunting knife skillfully in one paw. He was rather small for his age, but anyone who told him this or teased him about it was told to shut up in many different colorful ways, and treated to a death glare from his older brother Flippy. It was common knowledge that Teddy hero-worshipped his brother, who loved him just as much.

"Flippy! Are you going out for sentry duty? Can I come too?"

Sighing with amusement rather than annoyance, Flippy turned to face his eager little brother. "Teddy…"

The younger bear opened his eyes wider at him, and Flippy heard the two porcupines behind him suppress a giggle. It was also common knowledge that once Teddy wanted something, it just took one look for him to get it. His favorite method of persuasion was known as his "cute face".

Teddy's large eyes seemed to grow even larger, and Flippy couldn't help smiling at his kid brother.

"Can those eyes get any bigger?" he laughed. "Come on, little brother."

"Don't call me little," Teddy snapped.

Flippy laughed again. "Whatever you say, Teddy."

If it hadn't been for the numerous sleeping soldiers, Teddy would have whooped and turned somersaults. But he satisfied his joy by simply tossing his knife high into the air. He might have caught it, too, if Flippy hadn't snatched it out of the air and handed it to him. Grinning impishly at his older brother, Teddy put the knife away and followed him.

The trip to the border was relatively uneventful, but Flippy could see that Teddy was having the time of his life. It was impossible not to have fun with his little brother tagging along, and he was glad Teddy had decided to come. The feeling would not last, however. As they approached the border some primitive instinct caused Flippy, who was leading them, to look down. There, on his chest, was a small red dot that betrayed the presence and purpose of a sniper rifle.

This was one of the few times that Flippy experienced the risk of his own demise without the familiar adrenaline rush, and without the help of the strange rage that seemed to overcome him in every battle. One of the strongest feelings is the fear that one feels when staring death in the face.

A terrible, uncontrollable terror froze him, and yet some alien force lent speed to his feet. "SNIPER!" he shouted, bulling past the other three. "RUN! Make for that log!"

Flaky and Prickly shot past him, and they reached the lee of the fallen trunk with speed that only came with the instinct for self-preservation. The log, almost as wide as Flaky was tall, provided proficient cover.

It wasn't until he actually reached the other side of the shelter that Flippy realized Teddy wasn't with them. He shook off the crippling fear and peered over the log. Flaky and Prickly joined him.

Teddy stood motionless with his back to them, about four feet away on the other side of the log. Flippy almost breathed a sigh of relief, but something about the way Teddy stood struck dread into him.

"Teddy, come on, or you'll get hit!" Flaky hissed.

"Get behind the log, Ted!" Prickly urged. But, seemingly deaf to their orders, Teddy appeared to heave a tiny sigh before slowly dropping to his knees.

Cold realization struck Flippy like a blow. Time froze. No… it can't be… Throwing caution to the winds, he scrambled over the huge log and ran to his brother's side. He seized Teddy in a strong hug, and the same thought ran through his mind again and again.

Gently, he laid his little brother down. The blood from the wound on Teddy's stomach stained Flippy's jacket, but he didn't notice the sticky wetness.

Teddy's eyes flickered. "Flip? That you?"
Forcing a smile, Flippy nodded. "Hey there, little broth—oh, sorry, I keep forgetting."

The small bear was fading fast. "Nah, it's okay, Flip…you can call me… whatever you want…" His huge dark eyes clouded over, and his head lolled to one side.

No… this can't be happening. Sobbing quietly, Flippy held his young brother close. His eyes were closed, but tears continued to flow. He knew he was being stupid not to find cover, but at this point he didn't care. Gradually, insidiously, anger set in. As he crouched there, holding his brother, he sent out a silent plea for the only one he knew could help.

Come on, where are you?

After a while, an answer came, from that dark part of his mind that took over during battle and blocked him from the outside world. I'm right here.

You took your time getting here, Flippy half-admonished him.

Well, I'm here now. Did you want something?

You bet I do, Flippy thought viciously. I want 'em dead. All of 'em. I just want to be able to see it, to feel it.

An odd request for someone who wanted me to…oh, what was it… go away and leave him alone. Isn't that what you said just yesterday? There was a trace of mock surprise in the voice's tone.

Please, I'm begging you, Flippy pleaded. Just help me avenge my brother's death. It'll kill two birds with one stone. I'll feel better, and you'll have a little fun.

The shadow let out a cold, dry chuckle. Well, when you put it like that… And you want to see what's happening? You want to hear them scream?

Flippy's reply was clear and unwavering. Yes. Just let me put him in a safe place first.

He could feel the shadow pushing against his mind. Of course. But move over, will you?

Opening his eyes, Flippy could see everything through a haze of grayish-blue. He did not stop to question this, but picked up Teddy's body and carried it as gently as he could to the log. When he reached the two porcupines, he laid his brother down gently.

"Wait here a moment," he told them quietly.

The sniper's in that big tall fir by the border, by the way, the voice informed him. What do you say? First blood?

Flippy did not reply. But without warning, he turned away from the body and leaped up onto the log. The Bowie knife, which he had taken from his brother's dead hand, left his paw like chain lightning. His aim, thanks to the voice's influence, was dead-on. Through the blue mist that actually seemed to improve his vision rather than block it, he could see the knife spinning through the air before thudding deep into the assassin's head, right between his eyes.

Something powerful and frightening built up in Flippy's throat, and he was filled with a ferocious exhilaration that could have been his or his inner voice. A bone-chilling scream erupted from him, and without a single weapon on him, he raced over the border to where he knew the enemy camp was.

Even though he was for once fully conscious of what he was doing, the next few moments passed like a dream. He was unstoppable; his rage, coupled with his other self's thirst for blood, drove him onward. There were a little over a hundred soldiers, all armed and ready for him, but they were dead in… seconds? Minutes? Hours? He could not tell. There were only about five left when Flaky and Prickly appeared out of nowhere. The two sisters attacked the remaining soldiers, killing two of them immediately. But then one of them, a dog with a face that did not match his mean personality, managed to get behind Flaky and knock her out. And by the time she came to, Prickly lay mangled and lifeless, the dog had long fled, and Flippy had managed to quell the rage in his grief-stricken mind.

But the anguish and guilt in his heart forced hot tears out of his eyes as he looked down at the dazed porcupine who was staring, horror-struck, at her sister's dead body. When her terrified eyes turned to him, words poured unbidden from his mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Flaky… I tried to save her…"

Flaky would never be the same.

The two of them carried Prickly back to the log, and that was where Flippy broke down. He did not fall to his knees and wail his grief to the sky, however. No, he simply sat down on the ground, hugging his dead brother to him and rocking back and forth, back and forth. Flaky crouched at the foot of a tree, her eyes never leaving Prickly. And that was how Cuddles found them.

The war ended, and separate towns and cities were established all over the newly immortalized world. Many had been touched forever by the war, but tried not to let it get to them. They were, after all, immortal now. And slowly but surely, everyone fell back to the normal everyday system of living their own lives. All except for Flippy.

Flippy had fallen into a deep depression, and would spend long hours in some secluded place. He retreated into his thoughts, blocking out everything but his own sadness. And he lost count how many times he died simply out of misery.

But Flaky didn't give up on him. All through his torture, she tried time and time again (though she did not know why) to help him. I will not bore you with details, but gradually, oh so gradually, she got through to him. She alone had an idea of what he was going through, and actually cared. And with her help, he started to feel like, and act like, his old self again. He would always be shadowed by the loss of his beloved brother (not to mention the freaking demon he was harboring that would gain control and kill people every time the fragile feelings that came with war returned), but everything turned out okay. Besides the demon part, of course. And not even he or Flaky realized the love that was planted between them in the time they spent together. Cthulhu could never have the usual fun he had with his other victims before killing them. He could never see the fear in her eyes before she died, for a good reason. Flippy was always watching from the back of his mind, a backseat driver of the subconscious.

Kudos to you guys if you caught the blatant Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade reference in Shifty's story, and if you caught the significance of Swiftie's name! And also, a word on the title of Flippy's mini-story: I made it so that he displayed the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Admittedly, I squashed together the Anger and Bargaining stages, and the end was a bit rushed, but what the hey. I worked hard on this, so no flames. Flamers...oh...I will do terrible things to them.

-Adderstar-of-ValorClan