"Hello there, Tigger. You've arrived just in time to watch Rabbit & I play Halo 5: Guardians… or at least attempt to play it, that is. It's complete and utter horse shit so far," said Pooh Bear, patting Tigger's paws as he stared down at him. Glancing at the television inquisitively, Tigger hopped off the bear's bouncy belly and snatched the controller out of Rabbit's clutches, breathing heavily.
"Well of course it's shit so far, you guys aren't even playin' it right!" he exclaimed, removing the disc from the system and inspecting it. After a few seconds of pondering, Tigger licked the top of the disc in a circular motion and inserted it right back into the PlayStation 4, as if he just sealed some kind of futuristic envelope and sent it out to his tax office.
Once again, the same error message was displayed, accompanied by scratchy noises from within the system that were ever so worrisome. With an abrupt gasp, Pooh Bear motioned to fetch the disc out, but Tigger halted his advance. Still breathing in an obnoxiously loud manner, he ejected the disc again and huffed. "Unbelievable."
With a start, the rambunctious little boy headed over to Pooh's cupboard with the disc in-hand and retrieved two slices of bread, along with a generous swipe of blackberry jam across one of them. Placing the Halo 5: Guardians disc between the slices with a satisfying wap, Tigger then took an average-sized bite out of his makeshift sandwich and completely destroyed that small circle of grooved plastic.
"Christ alive, the absolute m-madman…" Rabbit stammered, watching the stuffed tiger chew on shards of broken compact disc and jam until his mouth was bleeding profusely. "I had a feeling that was the right way to play, I was just too afraid to try it myself…"
"Cowards, the lot of ya…" Tigger mumbled with blood dripping from his lips, still breathing at a volume akin to the decibels of an underground subway train passing by. At this point in the story, your mental variation of Jim Cummings providing Tigger's voice left the recording studio in a fit of rage, and was promptly replaced by the voice of Gilbert Gottfried.
Pooh Bear stood and watched Tigger swallow his creation, with jagged bits of CD poking out of his esophagus with nary a reaction. Once his palate was sated, the beast glared at Pooh and licked his lips with enticing fervor. A devilish invitation for unwholesome debauchery.
"You know what comes next, right Pooh Bear?" Tigger purred, sauntering over to the pricey console and picking it up, detaching all the wires in the process. Rabbit and Pooh were taken aback by this, but found themselves comforted by Tigger's alpha-male prowess.
"N-No, I can't say I'm quite sure, my friend…" the bear stated timidly, twiddling his thumbs and following Tigger over to his kitchen counter. The rowdy tiger pulled out a tray out of Pooh Bear's oven and wiped it down with a stick of butter, practically drooling. "The next step is to eat the whole console, ya silly bear! First ya eat the game, then comes the console!"
Rabbit and Pooh gathered around Tigger while he cranked the oven up to four-hundred and fifty degrees, then abruptly dropped the PlayStation 4 onto the buttery tray, sending a splash of wet butter onto Pooh Bear's cheek. "Oh Pooh, you've got something on your face! Let me get that…" Rabbit cooed, leaning in and swiping the streak of butter with his tongue. Pooh giggled nervously and folded his arms.
"Ahaha… thank you, Rabbit…" he murmured, knitting his brow as Rabbit stepped away to observe Tigger's unorthodox dinner preparations. "What the fuck…"
Intentionally slamming the oven door shut, Tigger turned to his pals and patted them on the shoulders, grinning ear to ear. "Now we just gotta wait fifteen minutes, or until it's golden brown! This is gonna be tasterific, trust me!" he bellowed, casually bouncing on his tail. Rabbit and Pooh smiled and glanced at the television, pondering what to do to pass the time.
"Have you guys seen Fight Club?" Rabbit inquired in an almost sultry tone, pulling a DVD copy of the film from out of nowhere and bouncing his eyebrows. Pooh and Tigger shook their heads no, which inevitably led to the three of them watching Fight Club, of course.
About ten minutes into watching the film, Pooh suddenly noticed something particularly strange. A dense cloud of black smoke was floating above their heads, and the sound of something fizzling was emanating from the oven. Pooh's humble abode smelled like the aftermath of a Chinese electronics manufacturer being bombed to oblivion, and he had absolutely no idea what could possibly be wrong.
"Tigger? Tigger, I think something's wrong with the roast…" he stated emphatically, turning and pointing to the smoking oven with a trembling finger. Instantly, Tigger's head span around one-hundred and eighty degrees (accompanied by the sounds of snapping bones and cartilage), and he let out a raspy, surprised gasp. "Heck, I musta set the temperature too high!"
With an air of urgency, Tigger leapt from his seat on the sofa to remedy the problem. Without hesitation, he opened the oven door and unleashed an enormous waft of charcoal-colored smoke, which quickly spread throughout the room. A burst of fire erupted from the oven and singed Tigger's whiskers, prompting him to bound away with a yelp. "Pooh, what's wrong with yer oven, huh? This ain't supposed to happen!"
The fire reached out of the oven and latched onto a nearby set of drapes, which caused it to quickly spread throughout the entire room and send the three friends into a state of adrenaline-ridden despair. Rabbit fumbled with the remote and paused Fight Club, relatively certain that they'd be able to continue watching it again at some point soon.
"Tigger, you hollow-headed waste of flesh and bone! Look what you've done to my beautiful home! What are we supposed to eat now? The Wii U has melted!" Pooh shrieked, picking up a half-empty can of Monster and tossing it at Tigger's head. It made contact with a clang and sent Tigger careening to the floor, wailing all the way until he landed unconscious. "Bother, we'll kill him later. Rabbit, help me put out the fire! We have precious little time!"
"Alright alright, gimme a second…" he mumbled, getting on all fours so he could eject the Fight Club disc from Pooh's Blu-Ray player and return it safely to its case. However, before he could finish his task, the fire spread to the television set and caused it to explode, unhinging it from its wall-support and sending it crashing down on top of Rabbit. Rabbit's toes curled up as a pool of crimson blood leaked from under the ruined television, much to Pooh's chagrin. "Really? You're dead now? Unacceptable," the bear said in an annoyed tone, spitting on Rabbit's fatally damaged corpse. Malice had yet to depart from his blackened soul.