Part Four

So Winnie the Pooh was met with Doctor House, and evaluated for stomach stapling. House agreed that Pooh was the perfect candidate. He was about one hundred seventy-five pounds overweight, had done absolutely everything to try and control his eating, had dangerously high blood pressure, and cholesterol, and was too fat, lazy, and indulged, to try exercise. Pooh also had to undergo psychiatric evaluation, but since Pooh was a bear of minute size brain, Doctor House waived it. Pooh was tested and prepped for surgery. The surgery itself was risky and would take place at the hospital.

Christopher-Robin, Owl, Rabbit, Tigger, Piglet, Eeyore, Kanga, Roo, and Shawsey Sanders were all congregated in the waiting room of Ford Hospital in Detroit the morning of Pooh's surgery. Piglet had her little pink rosary and was reciting Hail Marys. Owl was telling the receptionist about his second cousin's boyfriend who met Willard Scott at a Sonic Drive-In in Virginia, while Kanga sat doing her nails, totally oblivious to little Roo who ran up and down the corridors knocking into doctors, nurses, screaming at the top of his lungs, and being a big pain in the ass. Rabbit was reading Women's World, Tigger Maxim, and Shawsey Sanders sat in the far corner dressed in a huge, navy blue, down parka, with the hood pulled up tight around his face to disguise his identity. Eeyore stood gazing at the Coke machine with a glazed look in his eyes.

"All I wanted was a bottle of overpriced cherry Coke," he moped. "And the machine won't accept my money. I guess my money just ain't good enough for it. Hopefully I'll die of dehydration."

"You ass funnel," Christopher-Robin laughed. He got up and kicked the shit out of the Coke machine that spat out not one but three cherry Cokes. "There now we have one for Pooh to drink when he gets out of surgery," he said as he popped open one of the bottles.

"Pooh isn't going to be able to drink all of that coke after the surgery," Rabbit reminded them.

"Pooh isn't even going to make it through surgery," said Eeyore. "You know he's going to die in there. He'll bleed to death, or the doctor will be a fraud, or maybe his heart will stop. Any way he'll never make it off the operating table. Hopefully the doctor will be a fraud and we can sue him for malpractice, and be set for life, but stuff like that never happens to me."

"Don't say such a thing," Piglet squealed in horror. "Pooh's not going to die!"

"Yeah he is," said Eeyore. "I think we should call a priest right now."

Piglet began to sob loudly, almost as loud as Roo's shrieks as he charged through the hospital knocking over trays of needles and supplies.

"Someone get this brat out of here!" A nurse screamed.

"Roo darling," Kanga said. "Why don't you come over here and sit on Mommy's lappy?"

"Fuck you," Roo spat and threw a tray of insulin across the room. "Ah!"

Now Kanga joined Piglet and Roo in the chorus of screaming. Finally she got off her ass and charged towards her son. "Where in the hell did you learn to talk like that young man!" She demanded. She picked up one of the needles that Roo had toppled over and held it over her trembling son. "If you don't tell me where you heard that word then I'm going to shove this needle right into your thigh," Kanga threatened.

"Tigger," a terrified Roo squeaked. Kanga left Roo and charged at Tigger who was reading an article about Pam Anderson's boobs. She shoved the needle deep into his arm.

"Ah!" Tigger screamed. "You fucking bitch!" He began to crazily bounce around the waiting room chasing Kanga, who ran to avoid Tigger's wrath. Roo went back to being a pain in the ass, Eeyore began to sing Where you there When they Nailed Him to the Tree, and Piglet's sobbing broke out into high pitched wails.

"I do not know these animals," Shawsey said to a nurse. Doctor House emerged from the operating room.

"I have finished Pooh's surgery," he announced. With all the commotion nobody heard. Shawsey was laying in fetal position in the farthest away corner praying nobody recognized him, but it was hard to keep a low profile with Pooh's friends. Christopher-Robin had found a nurse he found rather hot and was asking her if she wanted to play doctor in his English accent that he knew chicks loved.

"Pooh is in the recovery room," Doctor House said again. Still nobody noticed. "Pooh's surgery is finished!"

Shawsey Sanders noticed Doctor House standing in the waiting room looking perplexed. He tried to motion Rabbit to go talk to him but Rabbit was too absorbed in the inspirational story of a dying mother who was saved by angels to notice. Shawsey had no choice but to speak to the doctor himself.

"Hey Doctor House," he said and went over to him. "Is Pooh okay?"

"As okay as one is going to be after having their stomach seared open and having the inner folds of it stapled down, and sewed back up," Doctor House replied. "He's going to be sore for a while. He shouldn't do any physical activity until after the stitches come out."

"But he's alive?" Little Piglet asked.

"Yes. He's just coming out of the anesthesia," said Doctor House.

"Yipee!" Piglet squealed. "I bought him a cheese and candy basket from the Swiss Colony! I can give it to him when he wakes up."

"No Piglet," Doctor House said. "Pooh's stomach is about the size of a hummingbird's. He'll probably only be able to eat one pettifore and one cube of cheese from that basket."

"But I bought him a huge one," Piglet whined. "It was seventy-five dollars!"

"I'm sure your friends will enjoy it," said Doctor House. Just then Tigger who was trying to escape from Kanga and her needle bounced into Shawsey, knocking him over, and causing his hood to fall down. Shawsey Sanders lay exposed on the hard tile floor.

"Oh my God!" Shrieked Doctor House. "Your Shawseyy Sanders! Will you sign my jacket?" He thrust his rancid jacket coat in Shawsey's face. Tigger ended up bouncing into a heart monitor causing it to shatter, and Kanga shoved three needles of morphine into him.

"You ass twaddles better hope to God you don't get sick or need any emergency medical care," Shawseyy bitched as a bunch of other doctors and nurses came up to him for an autograph and to ask him if he'd every play football again. "I'm never taking any of you idiots to the hospital again!"

"That's okay," said Eeyore. "I'd rather die. I'd feel bad for taking medical care away from someone who has a really great life and wants to live."