Young Pigletstein

"It was a dark and stormy night," read Tigger, "and…"

"Oh d-d-d-dear," stuttered Piglet incoherently. "Whenever Grandma

Piglet read this story to me, she always told me it was a dark and

stormy day…"

"But that's not SCARY enough! Kids these days…" sighed Tigger,

shaking his head. "Anywho, it was a dark and stormy night…"

"Day!" shouted Piglet.

"Night!" retorted Tigger.

"Day!" screamed Piglet.

"Morning!" replied Tigger.

"Evening!" said Piglet, immediately realizing his mistake. "Oh

d-d-d-dear…"

"Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!" laughed Tigger mischievously, proud of his

trickery. "Anywho, it was a dark and stormy evening and all across

the wee little town of Something Something Something Germany, not a

soul was awake, not even a mouse. But on the top of the hill, there

lived a mad scientist named Doctor Pigletstein."

"Oh! Was he a Hasidic Jew like me?" asked Piglet excitedly, who

just happened to be Jewish during the time this story was set. "Did he

have his bar mitzvah yet? Did he wear a yarmulke? The whole nine

yards?"

"Shut up," replied Tigger, who was not appreciating Piglet's

commentary on the story he was reading. "Will you shut up? Besides,

I thought you already knew this story."

"Oh. Sorry," said Piglet sheepishly. "I must have forgotten."

"Anywho," continued Tigger, "The mad scientist, Doctor

Pigletstein, was trying to find a way to bring dead animals back

to life, but…"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHH!" screamed Piglet in a

mixture of intense fear and anger. "This isn't my Grandma's story! She

always told me how the very nice and kind scientist was working on a

machine to help vertically challenged people like me pick haycorns

from trees! If my grandma knew you were screwing around with her

story…"

"Yeah, well," replied Tigger. "She's dead."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed Piglet.

Piglet, of course, had known for quite some time that his grandma

had died and gone off to live with the Voice, presumably as one of his

mythical 72 virgins, but for good measure, he also added, "Grandma…I

shall…AVENGE YOU!"

"Oh yeah. Sure," laughed Tigger sardonically. "And just how are

you gonna do that, eh? I'm sorry. My memory isn't what it used to be.

Could you tell me how she died again? A trip to the slaughterhouse,

right?"

"Yes…" said Piglet, barely trying to control his anger. "I

remember the funeral…"

"Very good, Piglet," complimented Tigger sarcastically. "Did you

have it at the Chinese restaurant? Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!"

"You bastard!" screamed Piglet, running over to Tigger and

stomping on his tail repeatedly, clearly trying to emulate Robert

De Niro or uh…Ryan Gosling.

"Please!" shouted Winnie the Pooh, making his first appearance

in this suddenly strong, brutal, bloody and violent story. "No mas!"

When things had finally settled down… and his tail had been

reduced to a bloody pulp, Tigger resumed telling his Halloween

story to his group of friends…and poor Piglet, who was in a

catatonic state after the orgy of hyper-violence which had

erupted earlier.

"Well, folks…" said Tigger. He was actually feeling much better

than Piglet at the moment after having been given copious amounts of

morphine to ease his pain and suffering. "I know this has been a long

and, for many animals, eventful evening, so I shall try to keep this

story short…or not. Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! I'm high as a mother…"

"Ahem. Tigger, darling," interrupted Kanga, saving Tigger from

uttering a word that would have ruined the childhood of any innocent

boy or girl reading this story. "Remember. There are children in the

room."

"Oh. Sorry about that," apologized Tigger, but, under his breath,

he muttered the f-bomb anyways. "Damn it! Pooh? Where was I? Pooh!"

"Oh bother," muttered Pooh, awakening from his slumber. "Yes,

Tigger. I'm listening…"

"Then where was I?" growled Tigger impatiently.

"I don't know," admitted Pooh. "I wasn't listening…"

"You could start with the creation of the monster, Tigger,"

suggested Roo, popping out of Kanga's pouch.

"Why, that's a great idea, Roo boy!" shouted Tigger happily.

"Alright…so the mad scientist, Doctor Pigletstein, was trying to

figure out a way to bring dead animals back to life…but all the dead

animals were buried in the cemetery, and he avoided that place like

the plague. So, one day, he decided to hire a homeless animal to kill

the more affluent members of the town and then bring him or her

straight to him. In exchange, the hobo would receive a place to sleep

and a bag of thistles to chew on. Unfortunately, the first experiment

was a disaster. So were the 9,000 that came after. Naturally, Doctor

Pigletstein hired the homeless animal again… and again… and again

until soon, the animal had become his assistant. His name was Igor.

The name sounds familiar, doesn't it? Like it belongs to someone we

all know and love…"

Eeyore, who still had a gaping hole in his face after the events

of our last story, merely positioned his faceless head towards Tigger,

giving him the middle finger.

"Ah, Eeyore," laughed Tigger. "You learn to love him."

"So then what happened, Tigger?" asked Roo.

"One day, Igor came back with the dead carcass of an animal he

had just killed. When Doctor Pigletstein saw the dead animal, he was

horrified. It was his childhood friend, a big and yellow bear, whose

name somehow escapes me..."

"Winnie the Pooh?" asked Winnie the Pooh happily.

"No," replied Tigger curtly, reminding Pooh that this story was a

work of fiction. "This story is a work of fiction. Dumbass."

"Oh bother," cried Pooh, "Only the Voice has ever talked to me

like that."

"Anyways, all through that night, Young Pigletstein worked

feverishly, trying to find a way to bring his dead friend back to

life. Meanwhile, the religiously devout animals who lived in the town

of Something Something Something Germany had finally grown tired of

losing their friends and family members in the name of science. They

prayed to the Voice, asking him to punish Doctor Pigletstein. Nothing

happened. So they decided to take matters into their own hands and

grabbed their pitchforks. They stormed Pigletstein's castle and

captured both him and his assistant, Igor. For murdering over 9,000

animals in cold blood, Igor was confined to a mental institution for

the criminally insane. I think it was called Butter Island or

something along those lines. Must be where they make butter. Anywho,

Doctor Pigletstein's punishment was much worse. With the power of the

Voice vested in them, the animals brought Pigletstein out to a big

cornfield in the middle of nowhere…and whacked him Casino-style.

And they lived happily ever after. The End. Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!"

"No, no, no, no, no!" screamed Piglet, opening his mouth for the

first time in four pages. "That's not how the story is supposed to

end! It's supposed to end with a big sing-along! Now sing along with

me!"

"If you're Pooh

and you don't know where to go to,

why don't you go

where fashion sits?"

"Shut up," said all the other animals in disgust. "Will you shut up?"

"Gee, Tigger!" shouted Roo. "That was a great story!"

"It was a most excellent one," agreed Christopher Robin. "What do

you think, Mary?"

"It was good," said Mary, who was one of Christopher Robin's

friends from school. While everyone else (except Piglet, who was

crying in the corner, all by himself) was congratulating Tigger on

his wonderful new story, Mary Shelley slowly took out her revolver

and cocked it. "Too good."

The End