Pooh Goes Apeshit

NOTE: THIS IS NOT WRITTEN BY ME
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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 favorite 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 into 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, let's have an adventure' or 'Pooh, you are silly!' in that affected, cutesy, spoiled brat voice, and his stupid little shorts - 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 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. sat there, prattling on about what a
 silly bear Pooh was and how he had very little brains (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 fiber in place to keep the pieces
 upright, and freezing C.R.'s eyes wide in horroe 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 realize 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
 about it.  When nighttime had fully arrived, 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 Woods now that 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.  It said "OWT CHAGIG THE DRAGGN" (spelling had
 never been one of Pooh's strong points).  "That's odd",
 thought Tigger, "there are no dragons in the 100-Acre Woods, only
 heffalumps.  What is that silly bear up to now?"
Not even Tigger could 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 Eeyore's favorite
 patch of thistles.  "This will serve that manic-depressive
 donkey right" laughed Pooh aloud, "always cheating at
 Pooh-sticks, cheaters never prosper", Pooh said to himself. 
 Then he hid behind a tree to watch the unsuspecting Eeyore eat himself
 to death - sheer poetic justice, thought Pooh as he dumped the nearly
 dead body of Eeyore in the same grave as C.R. and Piglet. 
 "Shouldn't cheat, should you?" shouted Pooh as Eeyore's eyes
 stared in disbelief.  "You're lucky I didn't chop you up
 into little bits and feed you to Tigger!" laughed Pooh
 maniacally, 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 alound,
 "My foot, you'd think the writer of this crappy story could think
 up better lyrics for a song than that, and to think, they released the
 soundtrack album on cassette and CD, alot 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.  "JEEZ does he never stop asking pathetic
 questions?" Pooh thought furiously.  "I'm going to have
 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 nap and that left Tigger at his mercy.  Even better,
 Tigger himself suggested that he 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 stretched out 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 and he gulped and
 choked.  Pooh was holding onto the rail of the bridge and jumping
 up and down with excitement and was joyously shouting at the drowning Tigger. 
"Why?" sputtered 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 crap out of
 people."  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 pinprick 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.
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:Bad Fanfiction