"The man who can smile when things go wrong has thought of
someone he can blame it on."
Arthur Bloch, Murphy's Law
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!, 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 pratt 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, let's 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 near
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
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 the 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
"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", thought 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 grace 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 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
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 pratts as well. is there
no-one in this place with intelligence apart from me?" Pooh asked
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
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 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 dickhead 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 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 text of the articles is identical to the originals like they appeared in old ST NEWS issues. Please take into consideration that the author(s) was (were) a lot younger and less responsible back then. So bad jokes, bad English, youthful arrogance, insults, bravura, over-crediting and tastelessness should be taken with at least a grain of salt. Any contact and/or payment information, as well as deadlines/release dates of any kind should be regarded as outdated. Due to the fact that these pages are not actually contained in an Atari executable here, references to scroll texts, featured demo screens and hidden articles may also be irrelevant.