Winnie the Pooh Goes Apeshit
Pdn
A.A. Milne
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 w hite 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 Eeyore'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 self.
Then he hid behind a tree to watch the unsuspecting Eeyore eat himself
to death - sheer poetic justice ought Pooh as he dumped the nearly dead
body of Eeyore in the same grave as C.R. and Piglet. "Shouldn't cheat
should you?", shouted Pooh as Eeyore'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 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 if 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 sound-track 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 part from me?" Pooh asked despairingly."
Pooh felt himself extrmely 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 wa ter 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." 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 athis 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 moreof 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 Eeyore one day - but that's astory for another
day.
THE END