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Winnie  the Pooh’s big wild party.It was the morning after the night before, and all was quite in 100 acre wood. The soft morning sun glimmered hazily across the meadows as the river bubbled and splished over big green rocks…. ‘Jesus Christ, my f**king head’ said Pooh and wheezed, reaching for the cigarettes. ‘What happened last night, it’s all a blur? Kanga appeared from under the sheets at the foot of the bed, ‘f**k knows’ she said ‘but my Jack an Danny’s as raw as a horse whipped arse, we were at it like wild dogs last night, you do get a bit frisky after a few, ya dirty bastard, an what’s that weeping out of my bottom? ‘It looks like milk and honey’. Pooh blushed, remembering the kinky games at midnight by the river they played as several rabbits thrashed his bare buttocks with stinging nettles.
Tigger, who usually came bouncing in the room, slithered around the door, reeking of alcohol. ‘By ‘eck, that old Charlie was quality toot last night, I was as high as a Kate’. ‘Me and Owl sat up all night contemplating the universe; we were off our tits, talking utter bollocks, and drunk a big bottle of brandy’. About three dozen Bees were just starting to wake up on the window sill; most with battered and bruised foreheads where they had tried to leave the Party unsuccessfully through an unopened window.
Just at that moment there was a muffled groaning, coming from one of the cupboards. As Pooh pulled the door aside there was Eeyore dressed in Christopher Robin’s mothers cloths. Looking slightly sad. It was quite apparent he’d been dipping his wick in Pooh’s honey jar, as traces of yellow goo were smeared all over his genitals: and evidence of vigorous and frenzied masturbation matched the scratch marks on the inside of the cupboard door. 'I'm depressed’ he moped as Roo was laying face down in a shopping bag of dirty panties. ‘They turned me down for Big Brother, I mean; I’m sitting here in women’s clothes, having taken copious amounts of class 'A' drugs and alcohol, joined a rubbish rock band called 'The filthy stinking prats’ and I’ve just bummed Roo to within an inch of his life’, he sighed again. ‘I mean what do I have to do, I only want to be famous so I never have to get a job or work again'
Roo’s potential football career and world cup glory was now in jeopardy as his ring-piece resembled a burst cricket ball. Just at that moment Christopher Robin came through the door, wiped the jizz from his palm and the door handle and laughed 'hey guys, wicked party' 'You were so funny Eeyore….riding my push bike into someone’s swimming pool last night, so rock and roll'. 'And you guys playing pooh sticks, your meant to use real sticks, not hang your backside over the bridge and drop a large turd in the water' he chortled, his sides hurting. Little fluffy bunnies played in the meadow, near the baited and quite vicious traps.
'You shouldn’t have had that ruby murry for dinner Tigger. Mate, it specifies in the rule book only solid, robust and pleasantly formed boomers qualify, none of that yellow mush you were chucking out. And don’t give me any shite about it was tiger looking; the only strippey bits in it were because of blood and protein traces. I've put some bog roll in the fridge for ya and the large tube of Anasol is in the cupboard, you’re bound to have the red raspers after that lot, if not the blue lagoons'.
Tigger clutched together his cheeks together, wondering what Roo had done with the batch of wiffy panties stored at the bottom of Christopher Robin’s Mother’s closet in a sweaty Waitrose bag. He was confused. Pooh, as a mate, ordered online the application forms for BB 2007. As normality returned to 100 acre wood, botties were soothed, Roo is gonna do the world cup, despite blood loss. Colon, his wife: is excited and probably will appear in a Hollyoaks late night special, where her immense talent and skills will probably outshine the rest of the wooden cast members.
Several of the pretty blue birds in the trees outside were actually hanging upside down from the branches, after singing crude and dirty rugby songs for most of the night and necking pure vodka and cranberry bombers. As the river, filled with empty Stella cans, large roach-butts and soggy turds meandered unto, Eeyore got a letter from channel 4, Pooh got another grip on Kanga, piglet was Sunday dinner, and the roast spuds were blinding.. Next month, its posh birds…..There’s a few of them in them there woods.
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• Home Return back to the homepage • Ghost Story Mr Bonx, Author, previews his chilling story - The Dorset Arms • Music Reviews/Links Read some of Mr Bonx's insights into music and culture • Pix Set of photos about the life and times of Mr Bonx • Contact Get in touch and leave me a message. • About Mr Bonx Find out about Mr Bonx. Rants Archive December 2005 |
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