Pooh Goes Apeshit

Everything was rather quiet in the hundred acre wood. The trees

whispered to each other as the wind rustled their leaves. Under a

large oak tree, there lived Pooh bear. From inside Pooh's house,

there came a steady bang...bang... bang!, that was making his honey

jars rattle on the sideboard. The light came through the window, and

in the evening sun Pooh raised the axe once more and brought it down

on the tattered remains of Christopher Robin. "Why...won't...

he...fit..." puffed Pooh to himself as the axe came down once more.

There was a small pile of earth, and a hole next to it, which Pooh

had hidden with his favourite rug. Christopher Robin, selfish prat

that he was, didn't quite fit in the hole Pooh had dug, so instead of

making it wider he had decided to hack Christopher Robin's legs off.

"A far more sensible idea", thought Pooh, and hummed a little song to

himself as he cut the last tendon and rammed the rest of the body in

the hole, finally covering it up with the rug. "Always too bossy",

thought Pooh, "Always too bossy, always grabbing me by the paw and

saying 'Come on Pooh lets have an adventure' or 'Pooh you are silly!'

in that affected cutesy spoilt brat voice, and his stupid little

shorts - bastard!"

 

Pooh had waited all afternoon for Christopher Robin to come round,

humming a little tuneless song to himself whilst gazing blankly

into the fire and fondling the oaken handle of the axe. When C.R.

had finally turned up, squeaking in his child-actor voice "Come on

Pooh! Open Up!", Pooh had answered the door normal as anything,

talked about the weather, and then went to the cupboard and fetched

the axe. While C.R. had sat there, prattling on about what a

silly bear Pooh was and how he had very little brain (which wound

Pooh up no end) Pooh had raised the axe high and brought it down

with a satisfying thud on Christopher Robin's skull, cleaving it

virtually in two, with just some muscle fibre in place to keep the

pieces upright, and freezing C.R's eyes wide in horror that Pooh,

lovable Pooh, could do such a thing! Pooh giggled a little and

wiped some saliva from his mouth with a shaky paw. Then Pooh, calm

as anything, had mopped up the blood, washed the axe and begun to

dig the hole.

 

Piglet had wondered why Pooh had not called for him that morning, to

have his tea and biscuits, and so he decided to visit Pooh instead.

He admired the evening sun, blood red, and listened to the birds

singing. Pooh watched him get nearer and nearer, and plugged in the

drill.

 

Piglet had no time to realise what had happened - the drill pierced

his skull, sending a beautiful fountain of blood all over Pooh's

orange hide. He rubbed the blood in and all over himself, licking,

licking, always licking. Then he pulled Piglet inside and put him in

the cupboard. The syringe lay on the sideboard, and Pooh picked it

up, paws shaking and sweating, and filled it full of solution of the

funny white powder that had been given to him by a strangely

spaced-out Rabbit. It was a strange effect at first, and Pooh

thought he had seen many strange things, but then experienced a

euphoric feeling of power. It made him irritable, and C.R. and

Piglet had everything that was coming to them, no doubt at all. When

night had fully fallen, Pooh dragged the bodies out and buried them

in a makeshift grave.

 

"Adios, dear 'friends'", Pooh giggled, "Things are going to change

around the 100-acre wood now I'm in charge" he laughed hysterically

and went indoors.

 

The next day Tigger and Roo made their way happily to Pooh's house, to

see if he knew where C.R. and Piglet were, as no-one had seen them

since yesterday. They were sure Pooh would know, as he had had tea

with Piglet yesterday and was meant to be playing Pooh-sticks with

C.R. in the morning.

 

When they reached Pooh's house the door was wide open and Pooh was

nowhere to be seen. Tigger and Roo looked inside Pooh's house and

noticed a large hole in Pooh's floor and a notice was stuck on the

wall with a large blob of congealing honey "OWT CHAGIG THE DRAGGN"

(spelling had never been one of Pooh's strong points). "That's odd",

though Tigger, "there are no dragons in the 100-acre wood only

heffalumps. What _is_ that silly bear up to now?"

 

Not even Tigger would have imagined what Pooh was up to at that

moment. That morning Pooh had woken with a splitting headache and a

rather snotty nose. So he had taken a large dose of the white powder

and a little while later had a brilliant idea! He left the house

with a container marked INSECTICIDE in big red letters. He took the

container and went to Eeyor's favourite patch of thistles. "This

will serve that manic depressive donkey right" laughed Pooh aloud,

"always cheating at Pooh-sticks, cheats never prosper", Pooh said to

himself. Then he hid behind a tree to watch the unsuspecting Eeyor

eat himself to death - sheer poetic justice thought Pooh as he dumped

the nearly dead body of Eeyor in the same grave as C.R. and Piglet -

"Shouldn't cheat should you?", shouted Pooh as Eeyor's eyes stared

with disbelief - "You're lucky I didn't chop you up into little bits

and feed you to Tigger!", laughed Pooh manically, before he covered

the makeshift grave over.

 

Pooh didn't return to the house until dinner time as he was totally

spaced out ll morning. So when he returned to his house he was in

an awful mood and all he needed to make him absolutely mad was the

sight of Tigger and Roo bouncing up and down outside his house

singing "bouncy, bouncy, fun, fun, fun, fun, fun, the

wonderful....". "'Wonderful'?", thought Pooh aloud, "My foot,

you'd think the writer of this shitty story could think up better

lyrics for a song than that, and to think, they released the

soundtrack album on cassette and CD; a lot of people are going to

get ripped off." This lightened Pooh's mood somewhat, but the

respite was brief.

 

"What was that you said?", asked Roo. "God does he never stop asking

pathetic questions?", Pooh thought furiously, "I'm going to have to

deal with these prats as well. Is there no-one in this place with

intelligence apart from me?" Pooh asked despairingly."

 

Pooh felt himself extremely lucky as Roo had to go home for his

afternoon sleep and that left Tigger at his mercy. Even better,

Tigger suggested that himself and Pooh go and play Pooh-sticks; Pooh

had smiled slyly as an idea formed in his overactive brain, and agreed

- "What an opportunity", Pooh whispered to himself as he followed the

innocent Tigger to the bridge.

 

Once on the bridge, and the rather pointless game of Pooh-sticks was

under way, Pooh thought he'd much rather push his stick up Tigger's

arse, rather than throwing it into the stream. Tigger was leaning

over the side of the bridge looking for his stick. So he did not see

Pooh's wide horrific grin as he outstretched his arms and moved toward

Tigger with the intent of pushing the stupid cat into the stream -

"Cats hate water, tee hee, he'll drown."

 

There was a loud splash as Tigger hit the water and started to

struggle as his head was covered by water, he gulped and choked.

Pooh was holding on to the rail of the bridge and jumping up and

down with excitement and was joyously shouting at the drowning

Tigger.

 

"Why?", spluttered Tigger as he slowly started to turn blue with the

cold, which Pooh found hysterical, after all a blue Tigger?? How

absolutely silly. "I'll tell you why you bastard", screamed Pooh, "It

serves you right, hiding behind doors and jumping out, and scaring the

shit out of people." But Tigger did not hear Pooh's answer as he was

already floating downstream face down in the water, dead - "Good

riddance", laughed Pooh, and looked at his watch, "Still time to get

that little dick head Roo before he wakes up."

 

Pooh sneaked to the sleeping form of Roo's mum and saw Roo's ear

poking out of her pouch - "Now I've got you, you little git", Pooh

thought, smiling, as he threaded a needle with extra strong cotton.

He was jolly grateful for Piglet's sewing lessons now, because he

would be able to sew up Roo nice and tightly, so he would not be able

to get out and his mum would not be able to rescue him. So very

slowly and carefully Pooh began to sew Roo into his pouch and thereby

suffocating the annoying idiotic twit. After the deed was done Pooh

made his way back to his house wondering how Roo's mum would take the

death of Roo. Badly, hoped Pooh, as he began to cough uncontrollably

and felt general nausea overcome him.

 

By the time Pooh got home he had puked up several times and was very

desperate for some more of the white solution. He trembled as he

picked up the syringe and gave himself the remaining amount. An

awfully large amount, one might say, for a small little bear like

Pooh. In fact too much, Pooh died of an overdose, but he died with a

smile on his face: he was dreaming that he was the only teddy bear

made with a willy and dreamed how he surprised Eeyor one day - but

that's a story for another day.