NetNews Usenet Archive 1993 #3/NN_1993_3.iso/spool/rec/humor/39018

Internet Message Format | 1993-01-28 | 9.8 KB

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From: [e-mail]
Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: Winnie The Pooh
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Date: 26 Jan 93 18:39:48 -0400
Organization: Dalhousie University, Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada
Lines: 162

From:   DAL1::GROVER       "HER EYES WERE COLD AND HARSH, WHICH MADE THEM HARD T
O CHEW"  5-FEB-1991 10:51:14.56
To:     GROVER
CC:
Subj:   Re: A bedtime story

Extracted-News: dal1 eunet.jokes:569

In article <[e-mail]> [e-mail] (G) writes
:
>
>                              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...
>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
>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 prat
s 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, whic
h 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.
>
>
>                                    THE END
>
>=============================================================================
>
>
>Written by an anonymous PUE working at IBM, Warwick, in 1987.