Egon spent his early years hanging out in the rainforests of Puerto Rico. Being taunted by his fellow sloths for moving at least once a day, he finally realized that, for him, being a sloth was more than just hanging from treebranches. Not much more, mind, just a little. So, very very slowly, Egon emigrated to Europe.
He arrived in the harbour of Marseille on a freighter carrying a big part of his native rainforest, so the journey was spent in reasonable comfort. On his way through France, though, things got harder for young Egon. Even though he adapted to hanging from streetlights, he never felt quite at home. He tried several jobs, but even at the post office they told him he was too slow.
Travelling northwards, he finally reached Germany. By now, he was desperate. How was a poor young sloth like him to make his way in a country famous for punctuality, industriousness and huge sausages? Possessing neither of the three, he had no hope of finding a job suitable for his many, if sadly undiscovered, talents.
The turning point in his life arrived when, hanging from the handrails on a regional train, he saw something looking like a leatherbound book lying abandoned on the seat below him. Moving as quickly as he could to examine this curious thing, ten minutes later he held it in his claws. Opening it, he saw that it was some kind of ringbound diary, nearly bursting with notes, doodles and photographs. Seeing that this was obviously an item cherished by its owner and him being an honest sloth, he set out to return the diary to the address noted on the first page of the binder.
Three weeks later, he nervously rang the doorbell. To Egon's great relief the owner of the Filofax - so she called it - was enormously delighted to have her diary back and invited her furry guest in for tea. Over the first cup of tea in his life (and his last, he soon learned that he preferred hot chocolate), Egon learned about the principle of an organized life (he didn't quite understand the necessity, though), and the joy of stuffing an organizer in a supremely unorganized manner (he really didn't get that one). Changing the topic, because, honestly, he was getting bored, Egon told the woman about his travels, his fear he might not be able to compete in a world full of Lederhosen and the joy of growing algae in his fur (she didn't understand that one, though). Feeling pity for this honest young sloth, who had no possession in the world except for the algae in his fur and the huge claws on his feet, the woman invited Egon to spend the night hanging from her kitchen lamp.
Getting up (or actually down, as he was hanging from the ceiling) early the next morning, the sloth explored the kitchen. Immediately he was drawn to the mint green sewing machine in the corner. Examining it closely, he switched it on, and, using some scraps of fabric lying next to the machine, he tried it out. His first idea was to make himself a nice suit for his next job interview, but as there were lots of owls on the fabric, he feared that he wouldn't look as dignified in it as he wished to appear. Then the conversation from the evening before came to his mind. If this woman loved to stuff her planner with useless (she said necessary) things so much, why not give her an oppurtunity to do so even better? Cutting some satin ribbon from the curtains with his claws, Egon got to work.
When the woman got up, he presented her with a newly made zippered fabric pouch, into the bottom of which he had sewn small loops made of the satin ribbons (she wasn't impressed about the state of her curtains). He told her how it would fit the rings of her Filofax, and how she could use it for useful things and to declutter her organizer a bit. Unfortunately, she hadn't been listening anymore after the word "rings" and had already stuffed the small pouch with lifesaving things like (more) paperclips, emergency sticky notes (Owl shaped. Kind of speciesist, Egon thought), a(nother) nail file, twelve ink cartridges (in case she might get a fountain pen one day) and enough magnetic paper clips to derail a train just by walking past it.
Well, Egon stayed, of course, and finally is about to make his own living as a designer of lovely pouches. The woman acts as his agent, though, as he cannot bear to visit a post office anymore. Also, he can't reach the shelves with the chocolate at the supermarket.