>                               POOH GOES APESHIT
> 
>                                 By 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...
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> bang!, that was making his honey jars rattle on the sideboard. The light came
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> through the window, and in the evening sun Pooh raised the axe once more and
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> brought it down on the tattered remains of Christopher Robin. "Why...won't...
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> he...fit..." puffed Pooh to himself as the axe came down once more. There was
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> a small pile of earth, and a hole next to it, which Pooh had hidden with his
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> favourite rug. Christopher Robin, selfish prat that he was, didn't quite fit
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> in the hole Pooh had dug, so instead of making it wider he had decided to hack
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> Christopher Robin's legs off. "A far more sensible idea", thought Pooh, and
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> hummed a little song to himself as he cut the last tendon and rammed the rest
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> of the body in the
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> hole, finally covering it up with the rug. "Always too bossy", thought Pooh,
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> "Always too bossy, always grabbing me by the paw and saying 'Come on Pooh lets
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> have an adventure' or 'Pooh you are silly!' in that affected cutesy spoilt brat
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> voice, and his stupid little shorts - bastard!"
> 
> 
> 
> Pooh had waited all afternoon for Christopher Robin to come round, humming a
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> 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
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> 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
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> 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
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> the axe high and brought it down with a satisfying thud on Christopher Robin's
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> skull, cleaving it virtually in two, with just some muscle fibre in place to
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> keep the pieces upright, and freezing C.R's eyes wide in horror that Pooh,
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> 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
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> blood, washed the axe and begun to dig the hole.
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> 
> 
> 
> tea and biscuits, and so he decided to visit Pooh instead. He admired the
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> evening sun, blood red, and listened to the birds singing. Pooh watched him get
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> nearer and nearer, and plugged in the drill.
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> 
> 
> Piglet had no time to realise what had happened - the drill pierced his skull,
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> sending a beautiful fountain of blood all over Pooh's orange hide. He rubbed the
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> 
> blood in and all over himself, licking, licking, always licking. Then he pulled
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> 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
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> the funny white powder that had been given to him by a strangely spaced-out
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> Rabbit. It was a strange effect at first, and Pooh thought he had seen many
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> strange things, but then experienced a euphoric feeling of power. It made him
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> irritable, and C.R. and Piglet had everything that was coming to them, no doubt
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> at all. When night had fully fallen, Pooh dragged the bodies out and buried them
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> 
> in a makeshift grave.
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> 
> 
> "Adios, dear 'friends'", Pooh giggled, "Things are going to change around the
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> 100-acre wood now I'm in charge" he laughed hysterically and went indoors.
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> 
> 
> 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
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> 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
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> Pooh's floor and a notice was stuck on the wall with a large blob of congealing
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> honey "OWT CHAGIG THE DRAGGN" (spelling had never been one of Pooh's strong
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> points). "That's odd", though Tigger, "there are no dragons in the 100-acre wood
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> 
> 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
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> morning Pooh had woken with a splitting headache and a rather snotty nose. So he
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> 
> had taken a large dose of the white powder and a little while later had a
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> 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.
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> "This will serve that manic depressive donkey right" laughed Pooh aloud, "always
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> 
> cheating at Pooh-sticks, cheats never prosper", Pooh said to himself. Then he
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> hid behind a tree to watch the unsuspecting Eeyor eat himself to death - sheer
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> poetic justice thought Pooh as he dumped the nearly dead body of Eeyor in the
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> same grave as C.R. and Piglet - "Shouldn't cheat should you?", shouted Pooh as
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> Eeyor's eyes stared with disbelief - "You're lucky I didn't chop you up into
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> little bits and feed you to Tigger!", laughed Pooh manically, before he covered
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> the makeshift grave over.
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> 
> 
> Pooh didn't return to the house until dinner time as he was totally spaced out
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> 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
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> 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
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> writer of this shitty story could think up better lyrics for a song than that,
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> and to think, they released the soundtrack album on cassette and CD; a lot of
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> people are going to get ripped off." This lightened Pooh's mood somewhat, but
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> the respite was brief.
> 
> 
> 
> "What was that you said?", asked Roo. "God does he never stop asking pathetic
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> questions?", Pooh thought furiously, "I'm going to have to deal with these prats
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> 
> as well. Is there no-one in this place with intelligence apart from me?" Pooh
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> asked despairingly."
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> 
> 
> Pooh felt himself extremely lucky as Roo had to go home for his afternoon sleep
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> and that left Tigger at his mercy. Even better, Tigger suggested that himself
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> and Pooh go and play Pooh-sticks; Pooh had smiled slyly as an idea formed in his
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> 
> overactive brain, and agreed - "What an oppurtunity", Pooh whispered to himself
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> as he followed the innocent Tigger to the bridge.
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> 
> 
> Once on the bridge, and the rather pointless game of Pooh-sticks was under way,
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> Pooh thought he'd much rather push his stick up Tigger's arse, rather than
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> throwing it into the stream. Tigger was leaning over the side of the bridge
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> looking for his stick. So he did not see Pooh's wide horrific grin as he
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> outstretched his arms and moved toward Tigger with the intent of pushing the
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> stupid cat into the stream - "Cats hate water, tee hee, he'll drown."
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> 
> 
> There was a loud splash as Tigger hit the water and started to struggle as his
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> head was covered by water, he gulped and choked. Pooh was holding on to the rail
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> 
> of the bridge and jumping up and down with excitement and was joyously shouting
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> at the drowning Tigger.
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> 
> 
> "Why?", spluttered Tigger as he slowly started to turn blue with the cold, which
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> 
> Pooh found hysterical, after all a blue Tigger?? How absolutely silly. "I'll
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> tell you why you bastard", screamed Pooh, "It serves you right, hiding behind
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> doors and jumping out, and scaring the shit out of people." But Tigger did not
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> hear Pooh's answer as he was already floating downstream face down in the water,
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> 
> dead - "Good riddance", laughed Pooh, and looked at his watch, "Still time to
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> get that little dick head Roo before he wakes up."
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> 
> 
> Pooh sneaked to the sleeping form of Roo's mum and saw Roo's ear poking out of
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> her pouch - "Now I've got you, you little git", Pooh thought, smiling, as he
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> threaded a needle with extra strong cotton. He was jolly grateful for Piglet's
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> sewing lessons now, because he would be able to sew up Roo nice and tightly, so
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> he would not be able to get out and his mum would not be able to rescue him. So
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> very slowly and carefully Pooh began to sew Roo into his pouch and thereby
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> 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,
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> hoped Pooh, as he began to cough uncontrollably and felt general nausea overcome
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> 
> him.
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> 
> 
> By the time Pooh got home he had puked up several times and was very desperate
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> for some more of the white solution. He trembled as he picked up the syrAinge an
> 
> 
> 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
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> died with a smile on his face: he was dreaming that he was the only teddy bear
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> made with a willy and dreamed how he surprised Eeyor one day - but that's a
> 
> story for another day.
> 
> 
> 
>                                     THE END