Pooh Goes Ape-shit (600 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: Fiction
Rating: 0.33 on 11 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Fraser James Bell (View user info) at 2008-01-11 07:37:42 EST
All was calm in the Hundred Acre Woods. A gentle breezed caused the leafy trees to rustle oh-so-softly; the birds twittered and cheeped and whistled their merry tunes overhead; and a rhythmic, steady thumping were the only noises to be heard.
Boomf! Boomf! Boomf!
Pooh bear's tubby little body jerked routinely back and forth, back and forth. He would pause every now and then, breathless but determined, to dip his paw into a nearby pot of delicious, golden honey which he devoured with delight. Refreshed, he would once again heave the giant cleaver above his head, and bring it crashing down into the skull of Christopher Robin. With a grunt he pulled the blade free, lifted the bloody axe once again, before bringing it down with a squelch and a boomf!
Winnie the Pooh's little red t-shirt stretched over his paunched belly, soaked through with sweat. His paws gripped the weapon tightly, and his muzzle was matted with honey and dribble. He muttered quietly to himself as he continued to bludgeon his best friend in the whole wide world.
"That'll teach 'im to call me 'Silly Old Bear'!"
Boomf! Boomf! Boomf!
Christopher Robin's carcase lay motionless as Pooh finally dumped the axe to the floor, and collapsed against the trunk of a nearby tree. He excitedly grabbed his pot of honey and delved into it with both paws, shoving the wonderful, sticky treat down his throat. Jabbering with satisfaction and excitement, the chunky little bear relaxed, finally, and allowed himself to drift into a contented sleep in the late afternoon sunshine. Images swam through his head of the boy's corpse: the head cleaved nearly in two; the blood-soaked puddle around the pitifully slumped limbs; the little shorts, dirty and crimson; and the open eyes, lifeless, which shew terror, peril and shock.
Pooh had gone ape-shit.
The next day, Pooh woke up with an awful head-ache. He dragged himself out of bed and staggered towards the mirror. He groaned at his reflection: his eyes were blood-shot, his furry face was matted with honey, and his cheeks were bloated. He swiftly threw two pain-killers down his throat and swore, there and then, never to go on such a honey-binge again. He whimpered as he wandered around his tree-house, surveying the damage. The bloodied axe leaned against the door, crusted and filthy; countless honey-pots, most of them empty, were scattered around the place; his t-short had been thrown asunder, covered in blood, sweat and vomit. Had he spewed last night? Yes, most definitely, just after tossing the prone corpse of Christopher Robin into the water near Pooh Bridge. He flinched as the smell of the stale honey hit his sensitive nostrils, gagging at the stench. His head pounded - how much honey had he eaten? Enough, it seemed.
The pounding in his head continued, and grew ever louder. Pooh - still half-cut, no doubt - realised that the pounding came from outwith as well as within; there was somebody at the door. Grumbling and holding his head gently (lest it explode) he peered through the curtains, to see who the hell could be thumping his door down at such an hour. No prizes for guessing, it was Tigger, that most irritating of felines. Pooh watched as the ridiculous fool bounced excitedly on his weird little tail, knocking constantly on the door, and yelling out:
"Pooooh! Oh Pooh Beee-aaarrr! Come one, sleepy-head! Have you forgotten about our play date? Piglet waits upon us at Pooh-Bridge at this very minute - we have a game of Pooh-Sticks to contend! You HAVE forgotten, haven't you? Well come on out now, for I shall beat you this day! You're unbeaten record must come to an end, you Silly Old Bear!"
On those last words, Pooh's back stiffened, his paws clenched, his eyes narrowed and his teeth gritted. Silly Old Bear? He wasn't the one bouncing like a fuckin' retard, waking honest neighbours up with his incessant yelping! No, that was Tigger, the swine. Pooh's gaze fell upon the axe. As Tigger continued his enthusiastic cajoling, Pooh made his way slowly to the door.
Tigger was growing impatient. He had been practising Pooh-Sticks all morning, and was SURE he would triumph today. What was keeping Pooh? Finally! the door crept open...
"Pooh! Where have you been? Oh you are a silly bugger, aren't you..."
But Tigger said no more. With a cry of "Damn your eyes, you springy fiend!", Pooh swung the axe and decapitated Tigger in mid-bounce. His head flew cleanly through the air and landed in a bush, the eyes still shining happily, the demeanor still smiling, and Tigger's last words still on his dead lips. The bouncing corpse, out of habit probably, jumped a few more times before slumping the ground.
"Thank fuck for that," muttered Pooh as he closed the door and went back inside. O! for the comfort of his bed - but no, that bloody little freak Piglet was out there, and was bound to come a-knocking sooner rather than later. Pooh shoveled some honey into his mouth (hair of the dog, he swears by it), and with a sickened wince he went looking for a nice strong length of rope.
Why was everything named after Winnie the Pooh? It was something that irritated him, certainly, being rather a modest bear. Pooh-Bridge? Pooh-Sticks? Bah! Once he had the Hundred Acre Woods to himself, Pooh swore to re-name them. He mused over this as he made to the bridge over the stream, where it had become customary to throw twigs over one side and then rush to the other, eager to see whose stick the current carried the quickest. It was the most ridiculous game ever, invented by that dunce Christopher Robin, and championed by eager buffoons like Piglet and the bouncing cat. Well Sir, it sullied the good name of Pooh Bear, but he fancied one more game of it nevertheless.
As he approached, Piglet was clearly visible on the bridge, tossing pathetic little twigs into the water and then watching them in amazement. The simple little hog.
"Pooh!" he cried out as the tubby bear approached. "Oh Pooh, you have made it, I KNEW you would, I just KNEW it! Where is Tigger? He went to fetch you, you know..."
Piglet stopped in mid-sentence, as Pooh cracked him across the jaw with a clenched paw. The pink little character flew back, cracking his head against the bridge. He looked at Pooh with a look of utter bewilderment on his countenance.
"P-P-Pooh?" The yellow bear's mouth was set in a grim way, his eyes shone furiously, and his nostrils flared with a monsterous intensity.
"Zip it, Pig," he growled. "Put your hands - or hooves, or whatever the fuck those stupid little shoes you trot around on are - behind you." Piglet did so, out of pure confusion than anything else, and Pooh tied them tightly with the rope he had brought from his tree-house. He tied Piglet's feet together, too.
"So, Pig, do you still want a game of Pooh-Sticks?" asked the bear, with menace in his voice.
"Oh yes - but I don't see how I could possibly throw with my arms tied behind my back! You ARE a Silly Old Bear, Pooh!"
Those words froze Pooh like a bullet. He closed his eyes tightly, images of wrath and terror dancing through his head. His heart-rate quickened, and Piglet gasped as he saw Pooh suddenly take the appearance of a plump, yellow demon.
"Silly Old Bear?" whispered Winnie, his jaw trembling with rage. With an outburst of strength, he heaved Piglet above his head, and dangled him over the edge of Pooh-Bridge.
"P-P-Pooh?" asked Piglet, apprehensively - but it was too late. As he flew through the air, helplessly restrained, he heard his friend's voice screaming behind him.
"I'll teach YOU to call ME 'Silly Old Bear'!"
Piglet landed in the water with a huge splash, his skull cracking against a rock on the riverbed. He sunk like boulder, and Pooh watched, with that familiar expression of satisfaction on his face, as Piglet floated downstream, under the bridge, his lifeless face gazing up at Pooh through the crimson water.
User Reviews
Submitted by loveinbrevity (user info) at 2008-07-21 10:54:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-02-14 06:19:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
and Happy Valentines Day!
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-02-14 06:18:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Thanks for your kind words. Haha @ the Loretta comment. Trashy name, huh?
Btw, Toes comment on this is excellent. And she was right :)
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-01-11 09:10:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
try re-written?
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2008-01-11 09:02:22 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
OK, not plagiarized, but obviously stolen.
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2008-01-11 09:00:46 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
http://www.xemu.demon.co.uk/censor/poohgoes.html
Plagiarized from 1996.
Submitted by FALLEN (user info) at 2008-01-11 08:46:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
nice Idea, bad delivery.
how it's supposed to be done below,
http://www.ubersite.com/m/111702
Submitted by i_can_get_you_a_toe (user info) at 2008-01-11 08:42:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Don't worry about the other reviews, it's just that you happened to post on 'official asshole day'
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2008-01-11 08:33:24 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
What sico said, only with the proper "F" in WTFINRAT
Submitted by hour_man (user info) at 2008-01-11 07:48:51 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
classic below
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2008-01-11 07:38:50 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
WTINRAT, 1-a-day noob. -2DIE