Part Five

Pooh started his long road to recovery. He was on hardcore pain killers that made him feel sleepy and doped up, which was better than having your guts feel like they had been seared in a barbecue. Piglet insisted on giving Pooh the gift basket from the Swiss Colony. It sat on Pooh's bedside hospital table all wrapped up in pink cellophane, and a huge pink and green plaid bow. Pooh had little sausages, blocks of cheese, decorated pettifores, crackers, honey cookies, and honey scones staring at him 24/7 saying eat me, eat me! Finally Pooh got to the point where he didn't care how hurt Piglet's feelings were and he ordered the basket to be taken away and donated to the homeless shelter. The next day Piglet came to visit Pooh at the hospital. She brought him a pretty beaded necklace she handmade herself. Right away her eyes darted to the bedside table where the gift basket had once been.

"Pooh did you finish eating your cheese basket all ready? It was all here yesterday. You shouldn't pig out like that or else you'll make your new tummy explode open."

"Of course I didn't eat the basket," Pooh growled. "My stomach is about the size of pea! How in the hell do you expect me to eat a gift basket?"

"Well where'd it go?" Piglet asked. "Is it under the bed!"

"Fuck no you blasted idiot!" Pooh screamed. "I gave it away! I was tired of having the cock sucking thing staring at me because I can't eat any of it! I had it taken away!"

"Oh dear," said Piglet. "I bought that basket for you Pooh. You should have told me and I would have taken it back and bought you something else."

"Well maybe you should think before you buy," Pooh snapped. "You knew that after this surgery the food I'd be able to eat would be minimal. But instead you go out spending your money like a drunken Paris Hilton buying someone who just had their stomach stapled and their intestines rerouted the biggest, and most fattiest gift basket you could possibly buy! What were you trying to do? Kill me?"

Piglet was now in tears. Whenever anyone raised their voice at her she cried. She cried once when she went to Kanga's man -made fundamental church and the preacher got too carried away with his sermon.

"You never ever have talked to me like that before," she cried. "When they stapled your stomach did they staple your heart too? I bought that gift basket as a gesture of love for you. I thought you could nibble on it over a period of a few months. You didn't have to pig it all down in one sitting!" She ran out of the room. Pooh started to call out after her but screaming hurt his lacerated stomach, plus Days of Our Lives was about to come on.

A week later Pooh was sent home. Pooh was overjoyed. The hospital was cold and noisy. The food had been disgusting. Pooh knew he couldn't eat much, however since he could only eat a tiny portion he would rather have small portions of yummy food that tasted good instead of cold, tuff, Dinty Moore like beef stew, halfway mixed tapioca pudding, and rice with these odd hairy things in it. Pooh could continue his recovery watching Shawsey's home theater TV, eating real people food, talking on the phone, and playing video games. But Pooh didn't really think of all the temptations that were waiting for him back at home. All of Pooh's food had been cut in half. He could eat about half a chicken breast, or half a piece of fish. Small baby sized cans of yogurt or a baby size box of raisins as a snack. But Shawsey still worked out regularly, stayed active lifting weights and jogging, so he always ate a lot. Shawsey still had a pretty big grocery bill feeding himself. The pantry and fridge was stacked with Shawsey's favorites; cold cuts, olives, caviar, Pepperidge Farm cookies, Walker's shortbread, Godiva truffles, fancy cheeses, Betty Crocker mixes, nuts, and Hoggen Dos ice cream. One Sunday morning while Shawsey and Pooh were watching the NFL pre game shows Shawsey made a huge pan of fresh cornbread with real butter and honey. Pooh stared with longing as Shawsey nestled down into his recliner with a huge skillet of bread, a jar of honey, and a stick of butter. Pooh looked down at his breakfast of half a banana, three apple slices, and half a slice of toast. That breakfast wouldn't even feed a baby frog! The sweet smell of the cornbread lingered in Pooh's nostrils and actually made his newly stapled stomach growl.

"Oh bother," Pooh muttered.

"Yeah I know the Wolves really suck this year," Shawsey said with a mouth filled with cornbread and honey. "Glad I left them when I did. At least they're the laughing stocks of the NFL and I'm not. The lions suck too."

"No not the Lions," said Pooh. "Cornbread."

"The cornbread doesn't suck," said Shawsey. "It's delicious. Nice and moist, warm."

"Do you think I could have just a little smackeral of cornbread and honey. Instead of the toast I can eat a bite of cornbread," Pooh said with his mouth salivating.

"I don't see why not," Shawsey answered and cut Pooh a very small piece of bread with a tiny drop of honey on it. But you give a bear an inch they take a mile. By the time the game started Pooh himself had polished off over half of the skillet of cornbread and three jars of honey. Pooh felt so sick. His poor little stomach was so saturated with honey that the inner lining was all stuck together. All he could do was remain curled up in an uncomfortable ball as he watched the first half of the game and try not to vomit. At halftime Shawsey made himself a huge ass sandwich with ham, salami, roast beef, pepperoni, green peppers, three different kinds of cheese, mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, onions, mustard, and dripping with 1000 island dressing, on huge thick pumpernickel bread. Pooh would have just sold his soul to Satan himself for a sandwich as spectacular. Pooh didn't have to. A supernatural force came over him that was unstoppable. He got up, went to the kitchen, and made one of his own. Pooh gulped down most of the sandwich before he turned green, and he could almost feel the staples popping loose. He had to dash to the bathroom to puke. Pooh was in hell and too ashamed to ask Shawsey for a pill for the pain. He stayed in a tight ball for the rest of the day.

Pooh also had problems going out in public with his friends. He went out with Christopher-Robin and Tigger to take Christopher's pickup for an oil change. Afterwards Tigger suggested stopping for a late lunch at Hooters.

"No!" Pooh shouted.

"Why not?" Christopher-Robin asked. "You love Hooters."

"No," Pooh said even louder.

"Yeah chicks with jiggly boobs, spicy chicken wings," said Tigger. "You usually have about six platters full."

"I can't eat like that anymore," Pooh replied. "I'm lucky if I could eat one chicken wing."

"So have one chicken wing then," said Christopher-Robin. "You can look at all the tits that you want!"

"Yeah," said Tigger. "Or does your stomach have a limit on how big the tits you can look at are?" Christopher R and Tigger collapsed into laughter at this and Christopher-Robin almost crashed into the little touchy-feely hybrid car in front of him.

"Silly old bear," he laughed. "Tigger and I are going to Hooters to dig chicks and chicken wings! It ain't our fault that you had to have your stomach stapled shut because you're a gluten who cain't control himself!"

"We want chicken wings!" Tigger chanted.

"Oh bother. Stop the car," Pooh demanded.

"We're on fucking Gratiot Avenue! Are you fucking nuts?" Christopher R snapped.

"I said stop the god damn car!" Pooh screeched. "I'm getting out and I'll call Rabbit or Shawsey to pick me up and take me home!"

"You're not going to sit on the side of the road you dork," Tigger snapped.

"I fucking will," said Pooh. Christopher-Robin stopped at a traffic light and poor Winnie the Pooh climbed out of the car. He found a pay phone in the parking lot of Wal-mart but he couldn't get a hold of Rabbit, Shawsey didn't answer his cell phone, Owl didn't pick up and had no answering machine, he felt embarrassed to call Piglet since their shouting match at the hospital, but he did get a hold of Eeyore.

"Eeyore you're home!" Pooh said happily.

"Of course," said Eeyore. "I never go anywhere. I'm never invited anywhere. I might go to the grocery store on Tuesday nights and that's it."

"Well could you come and pick me up?" Pooh asked. "I'm stranded in the parking lot of Wal-mart, and it's getting cold."

"I should have known the only reason I'd get a call is because someone needs something," said Eeyore. "Nobody ever wants to go grab dinner or see a movie with a lousy, stupid, ugly, gray, donkey."

"I'd go to dinner with you or see a movie except I can't eat very much," Pooh explained. "It's no fun going to dinner when you can't go all out on drinks, appetizers, and deserts, and movies aren't any fun without candy and popcorn."

"Well nothing is much fun with me," Eeyore moped.

"Can you pick me up?" Pooh pressed. He didn't really give a shit if a car ride with Eeyore was like a car ride with Sadam Hussein, he was desperate to get back home.

"Fine," Eeyore said. "Just give me about fifteen minutes to get out there. Hopefully I won't get in an accident. Nobody ever calls me when they don't want nothing."

Pooh waited outside in the cold for about twenty minutes. Finally Eeyore's gray rusted 85 Cutlass came plopping down the road. Pooh sat in silence as Eeyore bitched on and on.

"All anybody wants from me are favors. No one ever calls to say Hi Eeyore how you doing? Or hey Eeyore want to go to a Lions game? Or hey Eeyore want to get some dinner? You know what I'm sick of these damn gigantic SUV's hogging up the road. Pretty soon cars like mine aren't even going to be allowed on the road anymore because of these beastly SUV's."

Pooh was too absorbed in a pool of self pity to really tune in to Eeyore's ramblings. "I can't remember the last time anyone's asked me to dinner," Eeyore went on. "I've been just dying to go to Macaroni Grill sometime for their chicken Marsala but I ain't going there alone. I've been out a couple times alone and people stare at you funny when you go out to eat alone. But since no one ever wants to go to dinner with me I guess I'll never get to go to a Macaroni Grill again."

"Look Eeyore," Pooh snapped. "I would love to go to dinner with you but I've just had gastric surgery! I can't go pig out on a big Italian meal anymore! I'd get physically sick!"

"Yeah yeah whatever," Eeyore sighed. "I'm really pissed off at the gas prices! They've gone up ten cents a gallon since last week! I'm sick of these fucking Arabs messing with our minds. I'm sick of everyone asking me to shuttle them around the wood like a free chauffeuring service but no one wanting to spend any time with me doing things such as going out to dinner!"

Finally Eeyore pulled in the driveway of Shawsey Sanders's pad and Pooh was free from Eeyore's commentary on life.

"I'll never call him again," Pooh said as he let himself inside. He felt isolated from his buds because he couldn't eat like them. Piglet, Christopher-Robin, Tigger, and Eeyore had all seemed to forget that he couldn't eat much anymore.

Not being able to socialize much with his buds made Pooh feel lonely, excluded, and bored. Tigger tried to patch things up by asking him to go to a monster truck rally at the old Pontiac Silver Dome. Pooh knew that if he went he would never be able to pass up the delicious treats they had at the Silver Dome. Hot dogs with cheese and chili, snow cones, beer in plastic cups with no ice, nachos, and mini Dominoes Pizzas. So Pooh had to decline and instead spent his weekend helping Shawsey polish his golf clubs. He had been asked to three Friday night kegger parties but had to decline because Pooh's stapled gut wouldn't allow much drinking, and if he didn't participate in chugging contests, and shot slugging than he would be made fun of. This took a toll on Pooh's outlook on life. Eeyore wasn't they only bitchy one in the Hundred Acre Wood.