Pooh Goes Ape Shit, by A.A. Milne
Think reading this in a voice that you'd read to small children-- complete with light music in the background.
- Everything was rather quiet in the hundred acre woods. The trees whispered to each other as the wind rustled their leaves. Under a big oak tree 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 Wont he Fit?", puffed pooh to himself. As the axe came down once more there was a small pile of earth with a hole next to it which pooh had hidden with his favorite rug. And Christopher Robin, the selfish brat that he was, didn't fit in the hole that pooh had dug, so instead of making it wider he 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. After 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!' in that effected cutesy spoiled brat voice and his stupid shorts, "I hate that bastard." Pooh had waited all afternoon for Christopher Robin to come around humming a little tuneless song to himself while gazing blankly into the fire and fondling the oaken handle of the axe. WHen Christopher Robin finally showed up with his squeaking child actor voice, "Come on Pooh open up!" Pooh 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."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 Eeyore one day - but that's a story for another day.
