Murders in Pooh Morgue
We studied this piece in English class. I don't know who wrote it.
You have already been introduced to Pooh and his friends. At least that is what Pooh told me when we entered the café and Ginnie Woolf and Fanny Forster huddled very, very close together and said, "Look at what the dog dragged in," which was very impolite as Pooh is not a dog, as you very well know, but a bear, and a very nice one too, and he didn't drag me in, but we walked arm in arm. We talked over Shirley Temples, though Pooh ate my cherry when I wasn't looking, for he is still a growing bear, and he asked me if there were lots of talking animals in my new book and I said, "Yes, of course," and he said "Why don't you write about singing flowers or dancing beer bottles?" and I said, "Because flowers don't sing, silly, and bottles don't dance, but animals do talk," and Ginnie and Fanny tittered, and Pooh said he was going to take up Hemingway which doesn't sound as much fun as rugger.
Then I thought I heard Pooh say I was a dumb sap, but I have never been a tree, despite what my friends say, and so I asked pooh what he had said, and he said, "You're a comely chap," and I thanked him very much. So we are again friends, and he has invited me to his house to see him shotguns, and he is much more fun than Christopher Robin. And before you begin this story you may want to know why he is called Pooh, and so I will tell you. He is called Pooh because that is his name.
CHAPTER I: IN WHICH Piglet and Pooh Make a Startling Discovery
Eeyore was dead and it was a lovely morning for a walk so when Piglet came across Eeyore dead and gushing bright red blood in the bright morning sun he was surprised indeed.
"I must tell Pooh," he said to himself, there being no one else around.
Winnie the Pooh sat in his favorite armchair polishing his favorite gun with honey from his favorite honey jar, the fifth--or was it the sixth?--when Piglet burst in all frazzled, and in such a tizzy that Pooh dripped honey all over his toes.
"Pooh! Pooh! Oh, guess what?" Piglet shrieked.
"What I guess is that you are here, Piglet, and have made me drip honey all over my favorite toes. Bother, you little pig."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," squealed the little porker apologetically.
Pooh was incensed, but put his shotgun away. Instead, he felt he would be happier stuffing Piglet headfirst into a pot of honey. He grabbed him by his little throat and waved him menacingly over the sweet-smelling earthen jar.
"Pooh! Wait! I must tell you about Eeyore!"
Pooh showed concern. He loosened his grip and Piglet thuddedadudded onto the floor. Piglet opened his mouth to say "Oh!" or "Ouch!" but we will never know which was to come out, for instead for either came nothing.
"What's happened to Eeyore?" Pooh demanded.
Piglet stood silent and open-mouthed and picked splinters from his left ham.
"Have you lost your voice?" asked Pooh hopefully.
Piglet nodded frantically.
"Well, then we must look for it," Pooh said regally. They hunted up and down the house, inside the cupboards and under the rug, but to no avail. Piglet's voice was nowhere to be found, so Piglet tried to talk with his little pig body. He put his cloven hoof to his ear and sprawled on the ground, writhing and clutching himself until he finally lay still as a stone.
"Eeyore's become an actor?" asked Pooh.
Piglet shook his head. He grabbed Pooh by the paw and yanked him out of his house and down the road till they saw a sight so sad they sat and sobbed--I hope you never see a sight so sad as this sight they sadly saw.
Eeyore was dead and the blood gushing from his head was red as raspberry jello. Or was it cherry? Piglet hoped it was cherry for Eeyore had always hated raspberries. He remembered how Eeyore used to say, "I hate raspberries." Now Eeyore would no longer say, "I hate raspberries." Neither would he ever say, "Hallo," "Goodbye," or "I'm lonely." For a moment Piglet thought, "Maybe it's better to be rid of the silly ass," but as this is no way to think of your friends living or dead, he blurted out, "Oh, I'm sorry, Eeyore."
Eeyore didn't answer, which Piglet thought was very impolite until he remembered not only that Eeyore was slovenly, dim-witted, and inarticulate, but that he was also dead.
"You've found your voice," said Pooh.
"No he didn't! He didn't say anything!" wailed Piglet as tears sprang to his eyes.
"No, you have found your voice," said Pooh, exasperated.
"Eeyore...is dead," said Piglet, and cried and cried.
"Bother. He's bleeding all over the nice clean grass, too. They should have made HIM the pig, not you."
"Look, Pooh! What do you think happened?"
"Suviously Obvicide," said Pooh quickly. "I mean, obviously suicide."
"But why?" cried Piglet, "Oh, why, oh why?"
"Put yourself in his place," said Pooh. Piglet lay down on top of Eeyore's corpse. "No, no," said Pooh. "Get up. Imagine you are Eeyore. If brains were dynamite you wouldn't have enough to fart. You're not only as silly as an ass, you ARE one. What's your alternative?"
"I see," said Piglet, putting on his glasses, "But...but Pooh, there's no gun! Someone else must have done it unless Eeyore shot himself, brought the gun home, and came back to die."
"Habviously what oppened," said Pooh nervously.
"No! I don't believe it!" cried Piglet. "I'm going to find Christopher Robin. This is murder! Oh, 'tis murder most foul! Don't worry, Eeyore! Justice will be done!" And he ran off to find Christopher Robin, bringing home the bacon as he ran.
Pooh watched the little ham tripping down the road. "Oh, bother," he said to himself.
CHAPTER II: IN WHICH More Startling Discoveries Are Made
Christopher Robin was startled when Piglet burst into his house.
"Oh, would you like to stay for tea?" asked Christopher Robin.
"No, thank you, Christopher Robin," said Piglet, now out of breath, "but I must tell you what happened! You must come with me! Eeyore's dead and he's gushing raspberry jello."
"Oh, no. Let's not go see Eeyore, for I'm a sensitive little boy."
"But we must find out the murderer!" said Piglet in a frenzy.
"Yes, but how?" asked Christopher Robin.
"Well, let's ask everybody if they did it, and if someone answers yes, well, then that's the murderer!"
"Splendid!" said Christopher Robin.
So Piglet and Christopher went to visit Owl who invited them in for jam starts and gin. "Hallo, Piglet," he said, "Hallo, Christopher Robin."
"Hallo," they said, "Have you heard," continued Piglet, "that Eeyore has been murdered?"
"Eeyore," said Christopher Robin.
"Hoo-Hoo!" said Owl.
"And we were wondering if you ah, did it," babbled Christopher Robin, blushing.
"Hoo-HHAH!"said Owl. "Oh dear me, no. No, not I. Let's go ask Tigger!"
So Owl and Piglet and Christopher Robin wandered over to Tigger's, singing a song as they skipped. And the song they sang skipping sounded so:
Oh Eeyore's dead, oh Eeyore's dead
His empty brain's laid bare
He bled so red, he bled and bled;
He was no Fred Astaire.
And so they arrived at Tigger's house, and Tigger said, "Hallo! Are you here to be eaten?"
"Oh, yes," cried Christopher Robin until Piglet and Owl jabbed him in the tum and he doubled over.
"No, no, Tigger," said Piglet and Owl. "We want to ask you a little something. Remember Eeyore?"
"The little ass?" said Tigger.
"Well, Eeyore's dead," said Owl.
"Oh, my," said Tigger. "Is he still fresh?"
"He's been murdered!" squealed Piglet. "And we want to know if you did it."
"Oh, my, no." said Tigger. "Murder spoils the meat. Adrenalin and all that, you know. But I'll help you look. Let's go ask Rabbit!"
Everyone agreed that Rabbit should be asked--it would be impolite to excuse him. So they skipped down the road, singing their song, high-kicking until they reached Rabbit's. They knocked on the door, but there was no answer. They knocked again. No answer.
"Oh, Rabbit," they called, and opened the door.
Pieces of Rabbit lay all over the living room. One ear was on the telly, the other on the coffee table. His four feet were on the Mah Jongg board, whiskers were strewn about, and his fluffy cottontail sat in the middle of the floor.
"Well," said Tigger, "at least there's a lucky Rabbit's foot for everybody."
And everybody took one.
"We need more help," cried Piglet. "Oh, let's find Pooh!"
When everyone arrived, Winnie the Pooh was sitting in his favorite armchair, polishing his favorite chainsaw with honey from his favorite pot, the fifth. Or was it the sixth?
"Oh, Pooh!" squealed Piglet.
"What is it now?"asked Pooh.
"Pooh," said Owl, "first Eeyore, and now--now Rabbit is dead, see?" And they all held up their Rabbit's feet.
"So I've heard," said Pooh. "And I know who the murderer is."
"You do?" they all gasped.
"And what's more," beamed Pooh, "he's in this room."
Everybody looked at everybody very, very nervously. No one moved.
"And there he is!" exclaimed Pooh very loudly, and pointed his finger right at Christopher Robin.
CHAPTER III: IN WHICH Christopher Robin is Tried and Everybody Lives Happily Ever After
A trial had never been held before in the forest, but all agreed that Kanga and Baby Roo would make the perfect court--there being a shortage of participants, since everybody was either covering the trial for the press or selling souvenirs (except, of course, for Eeyore and Rabbit, who were dead). Pooh was to be lawyer for both sides. Everyone was excited.
"Let's start!" shouted Kanga, pounding Baby Roo with her gavel.
"Where's the liar for the prosecution?"
"I am the liar," said Pooh proudly.
"And the liar for the defense?"
"I am he too," said Pooh, even prouder.
Christopher Robin hung by his feet from a rope tied to the chandelier. Now he was cut loose, and he thudded-adudded to the courthouse floor.
Tigger was the first to take the stand, and after he swore to tell the whole truth and not to eat the judge, Pooh asked him, "Tigger, do you know who killed Eeyore and Rabbit?"
"Oh, yes," said Tigger bouncily.
"Who, then?" led Pooh.
"Christopher Robin, of course," Tigger replied.
"And how do you know?"
"Why, Pooh, you told us yourself!" Tigger announced boldly.
"Next witness," said Pooh.
Now Owl took the stand.
"Owl,"asked Pooh, "how do you know Christopher Robin is the murderer?"
"Why Pooh, you said so. And you'll notice Christopher Robin's head is much, much wider than it is long, a true sign of a criminal psychopath.
"Next witness," beamed Pooh
Piglet took the stand.
"Okay, porkpie, what happened on the day in question?"
"Well, Eeyore was dead and it was a lovely day, and I ran to Christopher Robin's, and he welcomed me in after I surprised him, and he was wearing his dress, and..."
"Did you say dress?" Pooh asked, considering the implications of Christopher Robin's androgynous smock.
"Why, yes," said Piglet. "And a very nice one it was, too."
"Next witness," chortled Pooh with an ear-to-ear grin.
Christopher Robin sheepishly advanced to the stand.
"Oh, Pooh," cried Christopher Robin, "you know I didn't do it. You know that."
"We shall see what we shall see," chuckled Pooh. "Do you recognize this body?"
Eeyore's corpse was wheeled out, still gushing a teensy bit.
"Gaaaah...Eeyore," gagged Christopher Robin.
"So!" Pooh shouted. "You admit you know this body. You, Christopher Robin, are the murderer of Eeyore and Rabbit, and you shall pay!"
"No! It's not true," Christopher Robin sobbed, but Kanga had already beaten Baby Roo senseless with the gavel, and Christopher Robin was dragged away screaming to the electric chair.
The aroma of freshly cooked little boy soon spread all over the Forest, and everybody burst joyfully out the the courtroom to picnic all day. Pooh went home to polish his shotgun collection, Kanga pummeled Baby Roo a little while longer, Tigger ate Owl, and Piglet found himself at the wrong end of one of Pooh's shotguns.
Comments • 0