Pooh goes apeshit
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Everything was rather quiet in the hundred acre wood. The trees
whispered to each other as the wind rustled their leaves. Under a
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
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
Pooh didn't return to the house until dinner time as he was totally
spaced out all 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.