Pooh's Night Out

Last year, Winnie-the-Pooh entered the public domain which means the original work — the story, the setting, the characters, etc. — can be used freely by anyone for virtually any purpose. *cracks knuckles* Here we go.

Once upon a time, a very long time ago now, about last Friday, Winnie-the-Pooh led his friends to a nightclub on the outskirts of the Hundred Acre Wood.

They danced merrily to Insomnia by Faithless and other Ibiza classics when Pooh spotted a lovely girl. Intrigued, Pooh plucked up the courage and shuffled over, Jameson in hand.

"Hello there," Pooh said in his sweet voice. "I'm Winnie. Would you care for a drink?" he asked.

The girl chuckled and accepted the offer, her eyes twinkling. "Thank you, Winnie! I'm Lily. Nice to meet you."

Pooh's heart did a little dance of its own as he found himself quite smitten by the charming Lily.

"Where on earth is Eeyore?" asked Tigger, interrupting Pooh's conversation with Lily.

The Old Grey Donkey, Eeyore, stood by himself in the corner of the club, with a shoulder of vodka he smuggled in. He was thinking about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, “Why?” and sometimes he thought, “Wherefore?” and sometimes he thought, “Inasmuch as which?”—and sometimes he didn’t quite know what he was thinking about.

Tigger was becoming a third-wheel now. "Are you having fun with Pooh?" he asked Lily.

Lily looked a little confused. "With who?"

"Pooh," said Tigger. "Winnie-the-Pooh."

"Why do you call him Pooh?" asked Lily.

"He shit himself at a house party once."

Lily blinked, her cheeks reddening. "Oh? Is that so?"

Pooh's ears drooped as he overheard the conversation. He looked at Tigger with a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment.

"Um, yes," Pooh admitted sheepishly. "There was a rather unfortunate incident involving honey and twelve cans of Guinness and... well, you know." He chuckled nervously, his voice trailing off.

Lily stifled a giggle, trying to keep a straight face. "Well, accidents happen."

She excused herself, and headed to the smoking area. That was the last time Pooh saw her.

"Oh, bother!" said Pooh. He drank heavily for the remainder of the night and chatted up anyone with a pulse. For he was rather desperate.

Some hours later, just as the night was beginning to steal away, Pooh woke up suddenly with a sinking feeling. He had had that sinking feeling before, and he knew what it meant. He had passed out in the back of a taxi.

The whimsical events of the last few hours came back to Pooh. Eeyore was involved in a nasty altercation outside the chipper and was arrested. Tigger bounced and bounced on his springy tail to the casino where he lost a considerable amount of money and dignity. Pooh called it a night because he was sensible. Also because nobody was remotely interested in him at the club.

The taxi, a gentle friend in the night, had delivered Pooh to his abode. As it pulled to a stop, Pooh looked out the window. The Sun was still in bed, but there was a lightness in the sky over the Hundred Acre Wood which seemed to show that it was waking up and would soon be kicking off the clothes. Although Winnie-the-Pooh had only just left his friends, he was missing them already.

"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."

"That'll be €160," said the taxi driver. "I'm charging you extra for puking up honey all over my car ye stupid bastard."