> 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 p no
> end) Pooh had raised the axe high angged 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 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.
>