|
POOH GOES APESHIT
Everything was rather quiet in the hundred acre wood. The trees whispered to each other as the wind gently rustled their leaves. The only thing breaking the calm was a steady ''thud...thud...thud'' which seemed to be coming from the little house where Pooh bear lived, underneath a large oak tree. Inside Pooh's house, the noises were even louder, and with each ''thud'', the honey jars on all the shelves would rattle. The evening sun was shining in through the windows to reveal Pooh raising an axe high above his head, and bringing it down again and again on what looked like a bundle of old rags. 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. Beside him there was a small pile of earth, with a hole next to it, which Pooh had covered over with his favourite rug. Christopher Robin, the selfish brat that he was even in death, didn't quite fit into the hole which 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, humming a little song to himself as he cut the last tendon. Ramming the body into the hole, Pooh worked up quite a sweat, but eventually, it all fitted, and Pooh covered the hole up again 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 stroking the wooden handle of the axe. When Christopher Robin had finally turned up, squeaking in his child-actor voice ''Come on Pooh! Open Up!'', Pooh had answered the door like normal, talked about the weather, offered Christopher Robin tea and honey, and then, when his back was turned, had gone to the cupboard and fetched the axe. While Christopher Robin had been sitting there, rambling on and on about what a silly bear Pooh was and how he had very little brain (which pissed Pooh off no end), Pooh had raised the axe high, and brought it down with a satisfying thud on Christopher Robin's head, cleaving it virtually in two, with just some muscle fibre in place to keep the pieces upright, and freezing Christopher Robin's bright little eyes wide in horror that Pooh, lovable Pooh, could do such a thing! Pooh giggled a little and wiped some saliva from his chops with a shaky paw. Afterwards, Pooh had calmly wiped the axe blade clean, and begun to dig the hole...
Piglet was wondering why Pooh had not called for him that morning, to have tea and biscuits, and so he decided to visit Pooh instead. He admired the early evening sun overhead, and listened to the birds singing in the trees as he made his way towards the oak tree where Pooh lived. Pooh watched him as he approached, and plugged in the Black and Decker powerdrill...
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 dragged Piglet inside and put him in the cupboard. There was a syringe lying on top of the sideboard, and Pooh picked it up, his paws trembling and sweating, and sucked up some of the solution of the funny white powder which he had bought earlier from a strangely spaced-out rabbit. It was a funny feeling at first, and Pooh thought he saw many strange and wonderful things, but then he experienced a euphoric feeling of power. It made him a little bit irritable, but it helped him to realise that Christopher Robin and Piglet had got everything that was coming to them, no doubt at all. When night had fully fallen, Pooh hauled the bodies outside, and dropped them into a makeshift grave.
''Adios, dear 'friends' '', Pooh giggled, ''Things are going to change around the 100-acre wood now that I'm in charge.'' He laughed hysterically and went back indoors. The next day Tigger and Roo made their way happily to Pooh's house, to see whether he knew where Christopher Robin and Piglet were, as no-one had seen them since the previous day. They were sure Pooh would know, as he had tea with Piglet everyday, and was meant to be playing Pooh-sticks with Christopher Robin that 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 which was stuck to 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'', said Tigger, ''there aren't any dragons in 100-acre wood, only heffalumps. What does that silly bear think he's up to now?''
2
Not even Wol could have imagined what Pooh was up to at that moment. In the morning, Pooh had woken with a splitting headache and a rather snotty nose, so he had taken a large dose of the white powder to make it all better, and a little while later, a cunning idea had crept into the limited confines of his confused little brain.
He had left the house with a large container, marked INSECTICIDE in big red letters. Carrying the container, he went to Eeyor's favourite patch of thistles, and tipped the entire contents of the container over them.
''This will serve the miserable old donkey right'' laughed Pooh to himself, as he hid behind a neighbouring tree, ''always cheating at Pooh-sticks, well cheats never prosper'' Presently, Eeyor shambled into the clearing, dragging his raggedy tail along the ground behind him. With a big sigh, he ground to a halt at the thistle patch, mumbling to himself. Behind the tree, Pooh could hardly contain his excitement as Eeyor unsuspectingly started to munch the thistles hungrily. Minutes later, the idea dawned on Eeyor that there was definately something wrong with the thistles. A look of intense pain came over his face as the weedkiller permeated his system. He staggered slightly, and fell to his knees, vomit spewing from his mouth and nostrils. Pooh chose this moment to reveal himself, and skipped merrily over to where Eeyor was convulsing in the spreading pool of blood and vomitous. Eeyor rolled his eyes at Pooh, as he tried in vain to speak. Pooh giggled at the bloody bubbles forming on Eeyor's lips, and laughed out loud as Eeyor's frenzied writhings subsided, and he became still. ''Sheer poetic justice'', thought Pooh as he dumped the cooling body of Eeyor into the same grave as C.R. and Piglet - ''Shouldn't cheat should you?'', shouted Pooh at Eeyor's prone form - ''You're lucky I didn't chop you up into little bits and feed you to Tigger!'', laughed Pooh maniacally, before he covered the makeshift grave over.
Pooh didn't return to the house until dinner time as he was totally off his trolley all morning, and when he returned to his house he was in an awful mood and all he needed to make him absolutely livid was the sight of Tigger and Roo bouncing up around outside his house singing ''bouncy, bouncy, fun, fun, wonderful, wonderful....''. '' 'Wonderful'?'', said Pooh contemptuously to himself, ''My arse, you'd think the writer of this shitty story could think up better lyrics for a song than that, but nevermind, they'll both be experiencing horribly painful deaths too, before long.'' This lightened Pooh's mood a little bit, but his mood darkened again as Roo bounced merrily over towards him.
''What was that you said?'', squeaked Roo. ''God does he never stop asking pathetic questions?'', Pooh thought furiously, ''I'm going to be glad when I've dealt with this little shit as well. Is there no-one in this place with a modicum of intelligence apart from me?'' Pooh asked despairingly.
Pooh counted himself lucky, as Roo had to go home for his afternoon nap, and that left Tigger at his mercy. Even better, Tigger suggested that he and Pooh should go and play Pooh-sticks; Pooh had smiled slyly as another evil idea formed in his overactive brain, and he agreed - ''What an opportunity'', Pooh chuckled 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 decided that he'd actually much rather push his stick up Tigger's arse, than throw it into the stream. Tigger was leaning over the side of the bridge looking for his stick, and he did not see Pooh's sickly, wide grin, as he stretched out his stumpy little arms, and, summoning all his strength, pushed Tigger over the edge of the bridge and into the freezing water below.
There was a loud splash as Tigger hit the water and started to struggle as his head went under. He gulped and choked, sinking and being carried around in circles by the current of the fast flowing water. Pooh held onto the rail of the bridge and jumped up and down with excitement, shouting exstatically at the drowning Tigger.
''Why!!?'', spluttered Tigger as he slowly started to turn blue with the cold, which Pooh found quite hysterical, after all a blue Tigger?? ''I'll tell you why, you bastard'', screamed Pooh, ''It serves you right, hiding behind things and jumping out and scaring the shit out of people.'' Tigger, however, didn't hear Pooh's reply, as he was already floating downstream face down in the water, dead. - ''Good riddance'', laughed Pooh, looking at his watch. ''Still time to get that pesky little Roo before he wakes up.''
3
Pooh sneaked to the sleeping form of Kanga, Roo's mum and saw Roo's ear poking out of her pouch - ''Now I've got you, you little git'', Pooh thought, smiling. He threaded a sharp needle with extra strong cotton, all the time watching Roo and Kanga with one eye. He was jolly grateful for Piglet's sewing lessons now, as he would be able to sew Roo nice and tight, so that he would not be able to get out, and his Mum wouldn't be able to save him. So very slowly and carefully Poo stitched Roo into his mother's pouch, thereby suffocating the idiotic twit. After the deed was done, Pooh made his way back to his house, wondering how Roo's Mum would take his death. Badly, hoped Pooh, who was of the impression that kangaroos were silly shaped animals anyway. As he walked back home, Pooh began to feel distinctly unwell, as his body began to crave more of the drugs.
By the time Pooh got home he had been sick several times and was getting desperate to score some more of the white solution. He trembled as he picked up the syringe and shot what remained into his forearm. An awfully large amount, in fact, for a little bear like Pooh. Too much,in fact. Pooh felt the rush as his body readily absorbed the drug, but then started to feel dizzy and ill. He fell to the floor and passed out. Without his friends to rush him to a hospital, Pooh died of an overdose, but at least he died with a smile on his face - he was dreaming how he was the only teddy bear made with a willy, and how he surprised Eeyor from behind, one autumn morning, amongst the golden falling leaves in the big clearing in the centre of 100-acre wood. But that's a story for another day...
THE END
|
Printer-friendly format
Email this thread to a friend
Bookmark this thread
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
