The Monk of Hundred Acre Wood
Once upon a time a great philosopher by the name of Gopher came up with a wonderful sum of what he thought about the world, "It sucks!" He wrote a book about it entitled A.A. Milne Should Be Deep-Fried and Marinated. Only Christopher Robin knew who A.A. Milne was, and he tried to explain to Pooh about the concept of God, but it would not penetrate through the bear's thick skull, which was full of cogitations about honey.
Eeyore slept with Gopher's book as his pillow. It best suited his needs, for he had got tired of Candide and Zadig, books which Kanga scolded him about reading.
"Pessimism is not a good philosophy in young, growing donkeys," she told him. "You need to be more sanguine. Try something like The Littlest Elf."
"I prefer Lemony Snicket," Eeyore told her. "And where is my tail?"
"I think Tigger took it on his little jaunt to visit Chester the Cheetah."
"What on Milne's purple heffalumps is Tigger visiting a Frito-Lay representative?"
"Eeyore, no cursing! Especially in front of a maternal figure like myself," Kanga said.
"Sorry, ma'am. Without my tail I can be such a woogle."
"Well, I'd better go check up on Piglet. Cheerio."
"Oh great. First Frito-Lay and now General Mills. What's next? Taco Bell?"
When Kanga left, Eeyore retired to his shabby home and there he saw a picture of Barack Obama. "Curses! Why does the donkey have to represent Democrats? Oh well. I guess I'll vote for Hillary; I hear she's a lesbian."
Later that afternoon Owl paid Eeyore a visit. "I hear you've been reading Gopher's book. Is this true?"
"It might be," Eeyore said, offhandedly.
"Not particularly light reading matter, is it? I'm surprised Gopher was able to think of it. Amazing how he describes his disbelief in Milne's existence, 'he protofigure of the great Milne has such a dearth of veracity that I find myself cachinnating of the very droll prospect of it.' I did not know Gopher had such a high level of vocabulary."
"Well, I, owl, did not know that ospreys eat mice, until about forty-five seconds before you decided to land in front of my shambles of a domicile."
"You're in a bitter mood. Have you lost your tail again?"
"If by lost you mean, 'Did you let someone take off with your tail while you were slumbering?' yes, I lost it."
"Oh, no, of course not, I am perfectly aware that when you are asleep you are vulnerable to thieves and murderers."
"It takes a pillager to raise a scaffold."
"What are you saying now, Eeyore?"
"Oh, I predict that a very strange fellow will arrive in Hundred-Acre Wood today."
"Who? Toucan Sam?"
"No," Eeyore frowned. "Why would a blasted Kellogg figure come here? And will you please tell me why characters you'd normally meet in a grocery store are all of a sudden in Christopher Robin's backyard?"
"Perhaps," Owl said, shaking his feathers, "perhaps this is a bad time to tell you that Count Chocula is going to visit Piglet tonight."
Eeyore's eyes bulged. "But…but…"
"Oh, don't fear. He doesn't want blood, just chocolate. I asked Roo to make a chocolate doll version of Piglet to put in Piglet's bed, so that he will survive."
"Roo can do that?"
"Yes. Roo is becoming quite an inventor. His latest machine, the Break-Away Sweetenizer, makes an exact duplicate of any person who steps into it, except that the duplicate is abiotic and made of either sugar, chocolate, strawberry shortcake, or vanilla ice cream. It works perfectly. I saw Pooh step inside it and a replica of himself emerged, made of honey. Our Pooh ate the honey Pooh…in less than an hour! Amazing how much honey Pooh eats. He'll need to see a dentist soon."
"I think I'll just take a nap, Owl, if you don't mind," Eeyore said.
"Oh sure, sure," said Owl, who flew into the air.
When he had left, Eeyore shook his head. "I don't know why I go predicting something like a visitor to Hundred-Acre Wood. Silly me." He yawned and fell into a peaceful slumber.
Winnie-the-Pooh was sitting by a brook thinking of how to penetrating the bee hive right across from him in a tree, when he heard a noise from behind him. Turning around, he saw a bald-pated man with shaggy eyebrows and wrinkled skin, dressed in a black habit He was only Pooh's size, much smaller than Christopher Robin. If Pooh had brains for anything other than honey he would've remarked this, but unfortunately he hadn't.
"Who are you?" Pooh asked the man.
"I am Monk Abudin. I have come to preach the truth about our creator, A.A. Milne."
"I never heard of the Milne fellow," Pooh remarked, though three weeks earlier Christopher Robin had tried to explain that Milne was a sort of god who invented Winnie-the-Pooh and all his friends out of something called The Imagination. Pooh failed to grasp a word Christopher Robin was saying, and with honey on the brain 24/7, it is easy to understand why he forgot so suddenly.
"Never heard of Milne!" the monk exclaimed. "Are you an atheist?"
"What is an atheist?"
"An atheist is a person who doesn't believe in any deity. It comes from the Ancient Greek word ἄθεος, meaning 'godless.'"
"What is a deity?"
"Gosh, do they teach you nothing in these parts! A deity is a person who should be worshipped because he brought people and creatures into being. He set our moral code."
"What's a moral cold?" asked Pooh.
"Code. CODE! And what is this, Twenty Questions? I was taught at the monastery that every single sentient being in the world knows who Milne is, even if they deny his existence. But here I meet someone who doesn't even know what morals are!"
"Um, do you think you could help me get the honey from that tree?" Pooh pointed.
"No, I will not help you when you can't even savvy a thing I'm saying! I'll find someone who can comprehend."
Monk Abudin traveled some distance till he came to Rabbit's garden. He saw the carrots growing tall and graceful out of the ground, and he bent over to examine them. Rabbit was looking out of his window at this time, and he mistook the monk for a weasel that kept trying to steal his vegetables in order to lure some swallows into becoming his dinner. Thus Rabbit ran out with a flyswatter and whacked the monk with it several times in succession.
"Get out you blustering fiend!" Rabbit shouted, kicking the monk in the shins.
"I'm not a fiend! Stop hitting me!" his victim pleaded.
"Oh, you're not a weasel after all. My apologies good sir," Rabbit said, helping the monk to his feet. "But pray, what were you examining my carrots for?"
"My sister is a fan of horticulture."
"Ah, and you wanted to tell her about the wonderful specimens you saw in my garden. How fantabulous! Who are you, by the way?"
"I'm an itinerant monk named Abudin, travelling across the Hundred-Acre Wood to preach the gospel of our mighty Creator, A.A. Milne."
"Oh!" said Rabbit in epiphany. "Gopher wrote a book about him…I've never heard of monkeys before though. Exactly what do you do?"
"First off, it's not monkey but—"
An orange figure interrupted the monk with cacophony, bouncing into the middle of the duo. In the process of landing, a rake was sent into the air, to Rabbit's consternation.
"Tigger! Watch where you bounce, you oaf!"
"Tiggers don't like insults," said the newcomer.
"Will you stop saying 'Tiggers this' and Tiggers that'? It gets on my nerves."
Tigger ignored Rabbit. "Why, who is this?" he asked, looking at Monk Abudin.
"This is an inveterate Monkey, traveling to tell us about the God of Gopher's book."
"Monkey?" asked Tigger. "That's an odd name."
"That's not my name, and I'm not a monkey!" Abudin shouted.
Piglet arrived on his bicycle. "Oh, dear," he said, seeing Abudin. "I thought Count Chocula wasn't coming until midnight."
"Oh, Piglet," said Rabbit, "this is not Count Chocula but Monkey."
"I've never seen a Monkey before," Piglet commented.
"How many times do I have to tell you—"
"Piglet," interrupted Rabbit, "go visit Owl, Eeyore, Gopher, Kanga, Roo, and Pooh. Tell them that Monkey has arrived."
"I shall," Piglet said, hopping on his bike again and riding off.
"Oh, and Christopher Robin too, if you run into him!"
Piglet put his right hand behind his ear to signal to Rabbit he had heard.
"I've already met Pooh," Abudin said under his breath, thinking it would be pointless to tell Rabbit this, since Rabbit got everything else wrong.
"Guess who I met when I visited Chester?" Tigger said.
"Who?"
"QWERTY."
"Oh, the keyboard fellow?" Rabbit said.
"Yeah, him. Monkey, do you like computers?" asked Tigger.
"I prefer quill and inkstand," said Abudin.
Rabbit took this opportunity to look up at the sky. Storm clouds were gathering. "Everybody get inside, quick!"
And so Monkey spent the first night in this part of Hundred-Acre Wood at Rabbit's house.