《The Honey Pot: A Winnie The Pooh Noir Detective Story》 The Honey Pot: Chapter 1 On Monday, when the sun is hot I wonder to myself a lot: "Now is it true, or is it not, "That what is which and which is what?" The hundred-acre wood was too fucking loud. I groaned and closed my eyes as if to shut out time itself. But the bright ray of sunlight hitting me full on in the face with a right cross of shining yellow had other ideas. It was 100 acres for sure, but it also had many other things. A tree where the Heffalump wasn¡¯t. A pack of rather nasty bees with big grudges and even bigger chips on whatever bees had for shoulders. An empty house where a friend used to live. It was also my home. And the homes of everyone else still unlucky enough to be stuck in this purgatory, I suppose. I sniffed. The whole place stank like stale sweat and old desperation. It was really fucking loud. I rolled over and heard the clanks as honey jars dropped out of bed and onto the floor, spurned lovers all. I wasn¡¯t proud. I didn¡¯t even need to check to see if they were empty. They were always empty. But the pounding on the door, incessant, repeated and, did I mention, loud? Well that didn¡¯t make my head hurt any less. And hurt it did, like it had been stomped by a pack of wild woozles after a weeklong bender. I swallowed hard and yelled. ¡°Unless you brought some honey, get the fuck away from my house.¡± I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. My tongue dry as the sandy pit where I first met ¡­ no matter. Goddamn I was thirsty. ¡°Pooh. It¡¯s me. Piglet.¡± The voice from the other side of the door called. He didn¡¯t have to identify himself. Just his voice was enough. Higher octaves than an air raid siren that had been kicked in the balls. ¡°It¡¯s Eeyore. Something¡¯s wrong.¡± I kicked one of the empty honey jars in case there was still a dollop inside. Empty. ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± I called back. I pushed myself to my feet and fell back again. My head spun round like a record player set to double speed. Maybe I could ignore Piglet until he went away. Then go back to sleep. But that pounding. Again, so incessant. ¡°Pooh, I, uh.¡± Piglet seemed to be debating something. That was fine. Let him debate. I flopped back down on the bed like a sack of potatoes. Let him pound on my door until the heavens beamed me up for my eternal reward or hell finally swallowed me from below for all the terrible things I had convinced myself were the right thing to do. ¡°I brought you some honey. Just open the door.¡± Piglet¡¯s voice somehow reached new heights. Enough for me to seriously wonder if my windows would shatter. ¡°Please, Pooh.¡± I opened one eye. I weighed the pros and cons in my head. Pro. Honey. And god I could use some right about now. Cons. Whatever Piglet wanted me to do. And judging by his voice, it was heavy. And I wasn''t sure I could do heavy. Now or ever. ¡°Quit banging Piglet. I¡¯m coming.¡± I quite literally rolled out of bed. Both feet on the floor. Resist the urge to throw up. Not that there would be anything there. But dry heaving was never any fun. I walked past the mirror on my way to the closet. I was quite the sight. Bloodshot eyes. And thin. Thinner than I had been when I had to lose weight to squeeze out of Rabbit¡¯s house. Like a well-worn pillow with the stuffing squeezed flat. A six inch scar across the lower part of my stomach. I didn¡¯t like to dwell on that, though. I grabbed a shirt from the closet. White, and pulled on my trench coat. I opened the door and held up one hand to shield my eyes from the harsh glare of the morning light. I looked down. There he was. Besides a few wrinkles, he really hadn¡¯t aged a bit in all these years. ¡°You brought honey?¡± I didn¡¯t even think to wait. Piglet sighed and held out a small jug. I grabbed it and popped the cork with my thumb. Then I took a drink. It was thick and sweet, with a hint of cedar. I felt the warmth slide down to my stomach and the rush returned. Everything became brighter. Colors more vivid. Smells stronger. I could hear the rustle of leaves and the hum of Mother Nature. It was like a blowjob straight to the brain. I smacked my lips and grinned. Piglet just looked at me. Those small eyes as wide as could be. He didn¡¯t say anything, but I could see the judgment nestled there. "When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," said Piglet at last, "what''s the first thing you say to yourself?¡± "Is there any honey left?" I said, slipping into the well-worn greeting like a pair of old socks. "What do you say, Piglet?"Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. "I say, I wonder what''s going to happen exciting to-day?" said Piglet. I nodded thoughtfully. "It''s the same thing, you know,¡± I said. Piglet shook his head. There was a hint of sadness and a dollop of resignation there. ¡°No. It¡¯s not.¡± I could care less how Piglet felt. The honey had done its job. Like I had been given wings and a VIP entry to happy town. Population me. I breathed in deep then let it out again. ¡°Eeyore?¡± Piglet asked. ¡°What about him?¡± I looked down at him. ¡°Oh right. Something happened.¡± I sighed. But a deal was a deal. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± I stepped out of the doorway and over the log that lay there, like a sprawled drunk after a bender. As always, the word "Sanders" hung over my door like the stench from a particularly rank fart. It had faded over time, but it had never quite gone away. It had also, at least to me, never made sense. But I had given up trying to make sense of things a long time ago. At first as we stumped along the path which edged the Hundred-Acre Wood, I didn''t say much to Piglet; but when we came to the stream I remembered, digging out the memory like a dog digging up a bone after a long winter. I had helped Piglet across the stepping stones. For a moment we were both young again. For a moment, I was once again planning to catch a Heffalump with a cunning trap. Dig a hole. Put honey at the bottom. But the only monster I had caught was the habit. I uncorked the honey bottle and took another sip. I didn''t know why we had taken the long way around. Perhaps Piglet was still haunted by Woozles. Or maybe the stream by his house had become impassable. But I couldn''t help but stop by the old tree. A green door stuck into its base. Dark. Lifeless. I felt Piglet tug at my arm. ¡°He¡¯s gone, Pooh.¡± ¡°And yet,¡± I said. ¡°It feels like he never left. Sometimes.¡± I began, but the words caught in my throat. I turned away. I felt Piglet¡¯s hand grab mine. It was warm. Small. ¡°I miss him too.¡± Piglet was as earnest as ever, I¡¯ll give him that. We walked in silence the rest of the way. I just couldn¡¯t talk about him anymore. But on the bright side, my headache had faded from a full on circus to more like a saw in the back of my mind. It wasn''t long before we crossed the stream and arrived at Eeyore''s Gloomy Place. As always, it was rather boggy and sad. He lived inside the small cave. But there was a crowd outside, held back by Rabbit. I could see craning necks and heard the chattering voices of curious onlookers. I walked through them. ¡°Rabbit,¡± I said, my voice even. He turned and his eyes widened. ¡°Pooh?¡± He looked me up and down like a repairman noting a bill to fix someone¡¯s weekend DIY project. Then he took in the honey jar I held in my hand. ¡°Jesus Christ Pooh it''s not even noon yet. Show some decency.¡± He paused. I just stared at him. ¡°What happened, Rabbit?¡± ¡°It¡¯s none of your business you silly old bear.¡± I moved faster than I had intended. In a flash I was nose to nose with him. Funny note, but rabbits don¡¯t really have their own scent. But Rabbit carried the smells of the woods around with him like a kid with a backpack. I stared into his massive brown eyes. ¡°No one calls me that,¡± I whispered to him. ¡°Not anymore.¡± He sniffed. ¡°Or what?¡± I put a paw on his shoulder. ¡°Or I remember that bears eat rabbits. And I teach myself to do more than sip honey.¡± He pulled back and I let him go. Then he dusted himself off. ¡°What do you want Pooh?¡± I nodded toward Eeyore¡¯s place. ¡°What happened, Rabbit?¡± Rabbit sighed. ¡°If I told you to mind your own business?¡± ¡°I would tell you that I was making it my business.¡± I gestured to Piglet. ¡°And that I was here for a friend.¡± Something gave way inside Rabbit. A crumbling edifice long since past its prime. His shoulders sagged. He shrugged. ¡°Fine. Now remember,¡± Rabbit waggled a finger at me. ¡°He was like this when I got here.¡± He hopped not toward the front entrance, but around back, where the tiny hill that made the cave ran toward the stream. A small tree stood there. I remembered it well. But as the branches came into sight. I stopped. Piglet stopped too, although I barely noticed he was there. But I noticed Eeyore. The honey almost made a reverse trip through my gullet. But I managed to hold it down. Rabbit nodded. ¡°Hung himself with his own tail.¡± He sighed. ¡°Honestly I had always kind of figured he would pull something like this.¡± Rabbit turned away. ¡°At least now he won¡¯t be losing it.¡± I simply stared at my old friend. ¡°I don¡¯t believe it.¡± I heard sobs and turned to see Piglet, the tears flowing more freely than coke at a Wall Street party post IPO. His tiny body jerked. It was my turn to return the favor, and I placed my hand on his head. I rubbed it gently. ¡°He¡¯s in a better place now, Piglet.¡± The words felt like ashes in my mouth. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s finally at peace.¡± Rabbit snorted. ¡°He took the coward¡¯s way out.¡± ¡°No.¡± I shook my head. ¡°He wasn''t a coward, Rabbit. He was just realistic. He faced a dark bleak world head-on and didn''t flinch. In a way. He was probably the bravest one of all of us.¡± ¡°I had just visited him yesterday. I knocked but nobody answered.¡± Piglet sniffed. "He wore his heart on his sleeve and his tail pinned to his backside. ¡°I know.¡± I nodded. But that comment let something in. Something I hadn¡¯t wanted to let in in years. An unwanted intruder. A worm in my apple. A fleck of dirt in my pure, uncut honey. I rolled the words over in my mind. ¡°His tail pinned to his backside,¡± I whispered. ¡°What?¡± Rabbit said. It was clear he was annoyed. He was always annoyed. I took another mouthful of honey, letting the flavors and notes soak into my mouth before I swallowed. The sharpness returned. The vividness. I took in the scene one more time. Every detail came to me in a flood of color. Then the epiphany hit me like a pile of bricks. Piglet must have noticed. He was always noticing things. ¡°What is it, Pooh?¡± Rabbit eyed me warily. ¡°Pooh?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Just call me a little black raincloud, Rabbit. Because I¡¯m about to ruin your day.¡± ¡°And how is that?¡± Rabbit did not seem in the least bit amused. ¡°Because Eeyore did not kill himself.¡± I sighed. I knew in that moment that I was committed. That I had chosen a path that would not lead me back to my warm, cozy den to drink the rest of Piglet¡¯s honey and lapse into a familiar and comfortable stupor. No, I had chosen something else that day. I hoped I did not regret it. ¡°Eeyore was murdered.¡± The Honey Pot: Chapter 2 On Tuesday, when it hails and snows, The feeling on me grows and grows That hardly anybody knows If those are these or these are those. ¡°That honey has gone straight to your stuffed head.¡± Rabbit did not seem happy. ¡°Maybe you suffered one too many falls on one of our expeditions.¡± He pointed at Eeyore, still hanging from the tree behind his den. ¡°This is not a murder.¡± ¡°Burrow your head into the ground Rabbit, if it makes you feel better.¡± I felt a spark of anger grow into a small flame inside me. ¡°It¡¯s what you¡¯re good at, right?¡± Rabbit¡¯s face screwed up and he crossed his arms over his chest. ¡°Look, the big guy left me in charge.¡± I laughed. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s going real well, isn¡¯t it Rabbit? Just splendiferously.¡± I walked up to Eeyore. His body swung ever so slightly in a barely-noticeable breeze. ¡°You¡¯re the bigshot Rabbit, so you tell me. If Eeyore hung himself. How the fuck did he reach his own goddamn tail? Hmm?¡± I turned back to Rabbit. ¡°You tell me how he did it. Because I will wait right fucking here until you do.¡± I jabbed a finger at the crowd of small forest creatures that had gathered on the edges of Eeyore¡¯s home. Rabbits and rodents among them. ¡°And for fuck¡¯s sake Rabbit, get your fucking friends and family out of here. Christ, we¡¯re not selling tickets.¡± ¡°I didn''t ask them," explained Rabbit carelessly. "They just came. They always do.¡± Rabbit waved his arms as if to encapsulate all of existence, instead of just the immediate surroundings. I saw his age in those movements. Slower than ever, Rabbit was. ¡°If he were murdered Mr. Great Winnie the Pooh, master detective. How come there are no tracks? Hmm?¡± He pointed at the ground. ¡°If someone killed him, wouldn¡¯t someone have to have, I don¡¯t know, actually come over and done the dirty deed?¡± I turned and glared at the assembled forest creatures and they shrank back toward the woods. Then I turned back toward Eeyore. I tried to soak in every detail. Create a picture in my mind just in case I needed to refer to it later. But I knew one thing for sure. ¡°I want to take a look inside.¡± Rabbit laughed. ¡°And I want to be the king of the north pole.¡± I whirled on him. ¡°I was not asking permission Rabbit. I was informing you of my strong desire. Then I will go in. This is not ¡®Mother May I.¡¯ I took two steps toward him. Neither of us were very big to begin with, but size is all relative, and I was certainly bigger than he was. He shrank back. ¡°But ¡­ But¡­¡± he stuttered. ¡°I was left in charge.¡± I pressed my advantage and slowly he stepped back until he was sandwiched against the wall. I could see his large brown eyes search instinctually for an exit. I could see the calculation occur in his mind. Would he have enough time to escape if I finally turned on him? It was a fair question. I had never given him a reason to try before. ¡°Fine.¡± Rabbit whispered. ¡°Fine. You do your little search.¡± I smiled. If there was any one thing I could still count on in this wretched and pathetic excuse for a woods, it''s that Rabbit was, and always will be, a feckless coward. There was an odd comfort in that. I turned to a wide-eyed Piglet. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± I walked back down around the front of his Den. Rabbit was right though. There had been absolutely no tracks. Not even in the front of the burrow. ¡°You said you visited yesterday?¡± Piglet nodded. ¡°I knocked on the door but no one answered. I just assumed no one was home.¡± I nodded. ¡°Did you bring anything?¡± ¡°A small cake.¡± He sighed. ¡°I wanted to boost his spirits.¡± I sniffed. ¡°Any particular reason why?¡± Piglet just looked down. ¡°Because he¡¯s Eeyore?¡± ¡°Fair enough.¡± I pushed at Eeyore¡¯s door and it swung gently open. No locks. That was less about Eeyore trusting other people and more about him never having the desire to put in a door that actually locked. It was also highly unlikely anyone would want to break in, since it was well known that Eeyore didn¡¯t really possess anything of value. Sure, he was the proud owner of a lifetime of worries, and a head full of sadness. But those weren¡¯t worth any more than what Eeyore had been willing to ascribe to them.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. I stepped inside. Piglet followed me closely. I knew he was nervous. He was always nervous. But less so when we were together, I knew. I scanned the small single room. Dark, dank and generally gloomy, Eeyore probably found it the perfect place to do his moping. There was a small pile of hay and stray that I presumed was his bed. A cracked, wooden table with three original legs and one large rock to serve as the fourth. And a series of large roots that served as shelves. There were little items on them, knick knacks from Eeyore¡¯s life in the 100-acre wood. I glanced at Piglet. ¡°Do you see your cake?¡± Piglet shook his head. ¡°I brought it in a small cloth too. It should be here.¡± ¡°Maybe Eeyore ate it and tossed the rest.¡± I offered. Piglet put his hand on his chin. Then he shook his head. ¡°No. He would save the cloth. He always does.¡± Piglet was right. I paced the perimeter of the room. I tried to hold on to every detail like a man desperately clinging to a life raft after the Titanic sank. It was impossible to know what would be useful later. And I would be a Heffalump¡¯s uncle if I forgot something later that would help me figure out who killed Eeyore. I shook my head. It was a damn shame. Even though I believed that someone had ended the sad donkey¡¯s life and sent him back to whomever stitched him in the first place, it was still a tough pill to swallow. Eeyore didn¡¯t have enemies. He had pitiers. To the extent that people were upset at Eeyore at any given time was only because his depression was the serial killer of endless good moods. But to actually take the step required to kill Eeyore ¡­ well ¡­ Something was up. I saw a small bottle and I picked it up. I popped the cork and took a whiff. My head swam. I put the cork back on the bottle. ¡°What is it?¡± Piglet craned his neck to see. I turned with the bottle and showed it to him. ¡°20 year aged reserve. Hints of oak and caramel. This ¡­ this is some nice honey.¡± I slipped it into the pocket of my trench coat. It¡¯s not like Eeyore would need it anyways, and better me to enjoy it then some of the ghoulish friends and family of Rabbit who will surely tear this place apart as soon as we left. ¡°It¡¯s odd that Eeyore would have something that nice.¡± I added for Piglet¡¯s edification. I finished my circuit around the room. There was something missing. Something important. Something I knew Eeyore had always kept with him. Something I knew he would never throw away. And yet, it wasn¡¯t there. ¡°Someone was in here.¡± ¡°Someone?¡± Piglet looked around. ¡°Are they still here?¡± I pushed my annoyance back down into my stomach. ¡°No, Piglet. They are not. But this place has been carefully ransacked.¡± ¡°How can you tell?¡± I waved a hand. ¡°Some stuff was taken.¡± I patted the fine honey that nestled in my pocket. ¡°But not the good stuff. The valuable stuff. Come Piglet.¡± I stepped outside and felt the brightness of the sun as it neared the midpoint. I put a hand up to shield myself from the glare while the other fished in my pocket for the mediocre honey and I popped the cork. I took another drink and felt the warmth. I sighed. ¡°Ouch.¡± Piglet hopped up and down on one foot. I eyed him. ¡°What happened.¡± Piglet rubbed at his one foot. ¡°I stepped on something sharp.¡± He stopped hopping and gingerly put one foot down. Then he reached into the mud and pulled something small out. He looked at it and then showed it to me. A feather. I stared at it and some of the fragments in my mind began to fall into place. I had a puzzle of a murder to solve, and I began to feel like I had just found the corner pieces. I took it from Piglet and rolled it around in my hand. "It''s a very funny thing," I whispered. ¡°What is?¡± Piglet looked up at me. ¡°There are a good many things I want to know about Eeyore¡¯s murder.¡± I said, slipping the feather into my pocket. I started walking away from Eeyore¡¯s house, Piglet hopping along at my side. Rabbit¡¯s friends and family began to descend on the place, their chittering and squeaking echoing through the forest and around in my mind. I would be hearing those noises for a while, I knew, deep in my nightmares. I could hear Rabbit yelling, but I didn¡¯t care much for what Eeyore had left behind. But I had the clues. And the feather. "And if anyone knows anything about anything," I said to myself, "it''s Owl who knows something about something, or my name''s not Winnie-the-Pooh. Which it is," I added. "So there you are." Piglet just stared at me. ¡°I worry about you sometimes Pooh.¡± It was not a long walk until we arrived at The Chestnuts, an old-world residence of great charm, which was grander than anybody else''s, or seemed so to me, at least, because it had both a knocker and a bell-pull. Underneath the knocker there was a notice which said: PLES RING IF AN RNSER IS REQIRD. Underneath the bell-pull there was a notice which said: PLEZ CNOKE IF AN RNSR IS NOT REQID. Underneath both of those, was a suitcase, half full. The door was open and items were flying out through the door and into the waiting luggage. Trinkets and clothes. An old toothbrush, although why an Owl would have need of a toothbrush was beyond me at that moment. I stepped in front of the door and caught the next item to fly out. A small file. I tucked it in my pocket and cleared my throat. I heard something scramble around inside, the fluttering of wings distinct to my sharpened hearing. I took another swig of my honey and called out. ¡°Going somewhere, Owl?¡± More fluttering. I might even have detected a squawk. But no one answered from within the tree. ¡°Owl! I require an answer! It''s Bear speaking." And the door opened, and Owl looked out. His eyes were wild and his head tilted from side to side like an out of control tilt-a-whirl run by an alcoholic carney. It made me dizzy just watching him. He looked the very definition of a man in a hurry. "Hallo, Pooh. How''s things?" Owl¡¯s voice was scratchier than I had remembered. He was also far more nervous than I remember him being before. I took a step into his house, and Owl stepped backward. "Terrible and Sad," I said. ¡°You want to know why?¡± Owl shook slightly. ¡°Uh, uh, of course.¡± I took another step inside. Slow and deliberate. "Because Eeyore, who is a friend of mine, has been murdered. By whom? I am not quite sure. And for what reason? I am again not sure.¡± I leaned in close to Owl. ¡°So could you very kindly tell me how your feather wound up at his murder scene?" The Honey Pot: Chapter 3 On Wednesday, when the sky is blue, And I have nothing else to do, I sometimes wonder if it''s true That who is what and what is who. Owl shook his head as he stepped backward into his house. ¡°You¡¯ve changed, Bear.¡± I stepped across the threshold. ¡°Oh I have?¡± ¡°You used to be so happy, and fat.¡± I snorted. ¡°And you used to be the smart one, right owl?¡± ¡°Well I¡ª¡± I cut him off. ¡°You see, Owl. You seem to be in an awful hurry.¡± I closed the door behind me. ¡°And that doesn''t make any sense to me, considering you have nowhere to go.¡± I pulled out the feather from my pocket and held it in front of his face. ¡°Unless you were feeling guilty enough about something to finally leave the woods?¡± Owl let out a short squawk. ¡°This isn¡¯t customary procedure, Pooh. You should know that.¡± ¡°Oh yes, customary procedure?¡± I tossed the feather at Owl, hitting him square between his yellow eyes. ¡°Well, let me spell this out for you so that you understand. You see, my good friend Eeyore is dead. And you see, he was done up to look like he had killed himself. You know, an easy leap because of his depression.¡± ¡°He was depressed.¡± Owl screeched. ¡°Oh yes. Trust me I know.¡± I reached out and pushed Owl. Just a little. Just to show him that in this small house of his I was the stronger one. ¡°And it would have been the perfect crime too. Except for a few things. Because, I know now, that he didn¡¯t kill himself.¡± Owl¡¯s eyes somehow got even wider. ¡°He didn¡¯t?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Oh, no no. Not in the slightest.¡± I reached out and shoved him again. His back bumped against the far wall. He had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run from the truth. ¡°We should offer a reward!¡± Owl said. ¡°We write a notice to say that we will give a large something to anybody who finds Eeyore''s killer.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a great idea, Owl. But you see. I knew something was wrong. And I knew you would know something about it.¡± ¡°I would?¡± Owl was as good a liar as he was a speller. ¡°And why would I know anything?¡± ¡°Because there were no tracks?¡± Owl blinked. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± I sighed. ¡°Of course you don¡¯t Owl. But you see, there should have been at least some tracks, right?¡± I pointed to Piglet, who had quietly stood behind me this whole time. ¡°My friend visited him just yesterday. Would have been odd to have no marks from that. And Eeyore himself. He loved to pace. And yet,¡± I popped the cork on my honey jar and I took a long draught. That was what I needed. ¡°And yet, there were no tracks at all.¡± ¡°But I¡ª¡± Owl protested. My hand shot out like a flash of lightning and grabbed Owl by the throat. I pinned him to the wall as he struggled. I leaned in close. My eyes right in front of his own. ¡°You see Owl. I figured that someone wiped the ground of tracks. Someone who wouldn¡¯t leave tracks of his own. And so I come to the one animal in this fucking excuse for a forest who could fly and who also once used Eeyore¡¯s own goddamn tail as a bell-rope.¡± Owl wheezed and gasped in my grip. ¡°Pooh. Don¡¯¡¯t.¡± Piglet¡¯s voice carried a tsunami of worry. Whether for Owl or for me, I couldn¡¯t tell. Probably both. That was just how he was wired. He cared about people. I cared about people too, but I also cared about justice. Justice for my friend. I could feel the anger building. Then I felt a hand on my leg. ¡°Let him go, Pooh.¡± Piglet¡¯s voice was soft. I let go. Owl fell to the ground, gasping and writhing. I hadn¡¯t realized I had held onto him for that long. But it was hard to muster up any pity for the guy. ¡°Tell me what I want to know.¡± Owl looked up at me. There were tears in his eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± ¡°Tell me.¡± I took another drink of honey and capped it again. ¡°Or the next thing you write for me will be your last will and testament. I can put it on top of your casket.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. I took a small step toward him and it was enough to break him. I could see it in his eyes. The resignation. The fear. The realization that the only way to get out of this immediate, and quite painful, danger he was in now was to trade it for danger and potential pain later. ¡°It was Roo.¡± I froze. ¡°What?¡± Owl stumbled over the words in an effort to get them out before I could threaten him again. ¡°He told me I had to wipe all the tracks from Eeyore¡¯s place. He paid me. He didn¡¯t tell me why and I didn¡¯t ask. I just needed it to get out. I don¡¯t want to be here anymore. I want to fly. But I needed the money Pooh and it was all there. I didn¡¯t realize what he had done til I flew down early this morning and saw him hung up like that.¡± He looked up at me. ¡°Just let me go. He¡¯ll kill me if he finds out I told you.¡± I stood frozen to the spot. I hadn¡¯t heard that name in a long time. Not since¡­ I shook my head. Owl still quavered in front of me on the ground. I stared at him. Then I cleared my throat and spit on him. The glob of saliva landed on his beak. ¡°I hope you get out Owl. not for your sake. But because I don¡¯t know what I will do if I see you around here again, knowing what you did to help cover up Eeyore¡¯s murder.¡± I turned toward the door. ¡°Come on Piglet.¡± I walked out the door, Piglet close behind. The suitcase sat there, still half full. I tipped it over and shook it out. Emptying it. We walked together for a few minutes. Piglet stopped. ¡°Are you going to find Roo?¡± I nodded. ¡°I have to.¡± ¡°Even after what he did to you?¡± My hand went to my lower abdomen by reflex. I felt the stitches running alongside my ribcage. I had lost a lot of stuffing that day. Probably too much. But the honey had helped. Soothed my pain. It still did. ¡°Yes.¡± "I think," said Piglet. "I think that I have just remembered something. I have just remembered something that I forgot to do yesterday and shan''t be able to do to-morrow. So I suppose I really ought to go back and do it now." He turned to go. ¡°Piglet?¡± He stopped. ¡°Yes Pooh?¡± ¡°It¡¯s ok. I will do this for both of us.¡± His voice was soft. "It is hard to be brave when you''re only a Very Small Animal." ¡°I know.¡± I turned from him and began the long walk to the sandy pits. I made sure to skirt Rabbit''s house. The last thing I needed was to have another encounter with his so-called friends and relations. And I made sure to give the bee tree a wide berth. They would never forget, I was sure. But the sand pits. Fond memories of Kanga and Roo playing. Reading poetry and indulging in the innocence of youth and a time long past. A brighter time for all of us. The sand pits had long since been choked with weeds, their grip growing tighter every year. I sat on the edge and opened the honey jar from home. I drank the rest of it in one long gulp. Then I tossed the jar into the pit. The honey swirled inside me and I embraced the giddy feeling it gave me. The warmth. The feeling that for one moment, just one moment, I was happy in a place I belonged. It might have been a lie. But it was a damn convincing one, like a mother telling their child they could do or be anything with their lives. By the time the kid finds out that¡¯s not true, it¡¯s too late. I sniffed. The ultimate con. ¡°Pooh?¡± I jumped and whirled in surprise. But the voice was unmistakable. She stood there, her long ears pressed against the back of her head, her large, powerful feet planted firmly on the ground. But it was impossible to ignore her eyes. Red and intense. Just like she had been. Now they were older, haunted by good times long gone and the faded echoes of friends laughter. ¡°Kanga?¡± ¡°What are you doing here Pooh? You haven¡¯t been by since¡­¡± Her eyes traveled to the stitches at my midsection and back again. It was lightning fast, but I noticed. She noticed that I noticed and blushed. ¡°I guess I never thought you¡¯d come back.¡± ¡°First time for everything, I suppose.¡± I gave it some thought. ¡°Or a second.¡± I sat back down at the edge of the sand pits. Kanga sat down next to me. Close enough for me to smell her fur. Catch the scent of freshly laundered linen from her apron. It never changed. That heady aroma that screamed out to me that she might be 100% kangaroo, but she was all woman. And I was a man. She sighed. ¡°You¡¯re here about Eeyore, aren¡¯t you?¡± Her voice was quiet. Distant. Like she was talking to herself late at night. I nodded. ¡°I heard he killed himself.¡± She knew where this was going. Kanga was far smarter than anyone gave her credit for. And that included me. ¡°Hung himself by his own tail.¡± ¡°I heard that too, Kanga. Saw it myself as well.¡± She shifted closer to me. ¡°But you don¡¯t believe that. Do you?¡± I shook my head. ¡°No.¡± We sat there in silence. The moment stretched on into an infinity of foreboding and an endless waltz of memory. If neither of us said anything, maybe we could find comfort in the memories we made a long time ago. Before everything went to hell in a handbasket. Before age and greed soured the milk and honey of an unblemished future stretched out ahead of us. But I had work to do. And she knew that. ¡°You¡¯re not here for me, are you?¡± ¡°No.¡± More silence. This time darker. Deeper. ¡°He¡¯s not here, you know.¡± ¡°Where is he?¡± I didn¡¯t want to tell her that her son was a murderer. ¡°I need to talk to him.¡± She shrugged. ¡°My son hasn¡¯t kept me in the loop for years. I have no idea where he might go.¡± She lowered her head. ¡°Or what he might do. He¡¯s made some bad choices. I learned a long time ago, but perhaps not soon enough, that I can¡¯t protect him from those choices.¡± I felt her hand on mine. It was warm. I looked at her and she looked at me. ¡°Stay a while?¡± Her voice was soft. She was soft. ¡°Surely you can do that. For old times¡¯ sake?¡± ¡°Kanga. I ¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± I wanted to say yes. I truly did. I thought about Eeyore, and what his final moments must have been like. The desperate owl as he threw clothes into a suitcase in a doomed effort to leave. I had unfinished business. And yet. Maybe it was the honey I drank. Or maybe it was the whisper of a ghost of a happy memory still calling to me. Or maybe it was me thinking with my manhood instead of my brain. Which was probably why we half ran, half stumbled back to Kanga¡¯s house nearby, tore off each other¡¯s clothes and fell into bed. I was sure I would regret it the next day. But I didn¡¯t care. The Honey Pot: Chapter 4 On Thursday, when it starts to freeze And hoar-frost twinkles on the trees, How very readily one sees That these are whose¡ªbut whose are these? I swam toward consciousness and opened my eyes. Kanga was sitting on the edge of the bed, a loosely rolled cigarette in her mouth. She was puffing on it absentmindedly. The haze from the smoke filled the small, cramped bedroom. ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡± It was a statement. Not a question. She took another drag on the cigarette. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure you would ever wake up, you sleep so soundly.¡± My head pounded. I reached for my eyes and realized I couldn¡¯t move either of my hands. I looked to each side to find myself restrained to the bedposts by a pair of handcuffs. I pulled hard enough for the cuffs to cut into my skin and send sparks of pain shooting to my foggy brain. ¡°Try all you want. You¡¯re not going to get free. Not unless I let you.¡± She held out a key. She took another puff and stared at the dwindling cigarette, the flame slowly winding its way down the stem and the ash growing. She tapped the end and it fell carelessly to the floor. She sat there, looking at me. I looked at her. ¡°Why, Kanga?¡± She answered my question with a question. ¡°Do you ever go to the edge?¡± She didn¡¯t have to elaborate. I knew what that meant. We all did. ¡°Do you ever go and stare out at the world beyond.¡± Another puff. ¡°Because there is a world, beyond, Pooh. A world we cannot enter. A world we will never know. Big and bright and perhaps just a mote better than this one.¡± She sighed, then dropped the spent cigarette to the ground. She stomped on the remains with one large foot, and the only mark it left was a dull smudge on the ground. She turned to me. ¡°Have you seen the trucks? The diggers? The construction equipment and pile of woods and supplies that now sit just outside these woods? The sounds of dull machinery and men chatting about their days? The houses that but up against these woods? Because Roo did. He grew up watching his own world shrink, become smaller. He saw the outside world as an escape hatch. A world of untapped wonder.¡± She stood up and began to pace, a sort of half hop, half walk from one end of the short room to the other. ¡°It became an obsession, Pooh. It was all he thought about. All he cared about. He would do anything to leave this place. To give up his past and inherit a future. Not even a good one, mind you,¡± she shook her head. ¡°Just any future, you know?¡± She sat back down near me. I tested the handcuffs again but they were locked tight, and the bed itself was sturdy, I knew that much from last night. She reached out and put her and on my stomach, resting it there gently. She seemed to be thinking of something, because she didn¡¯t say anything for quite some time. ¡°I want to tell you something, Pooh. I want to tell you something but I am worried about Roo.¡± She inched closer and spoke to me, her lips just inches from my own. ¡°I need you to promise me something, Pooh.¡± ¡°Promise what?¡± I asked. I knew she had me over a barrel. ¡°Don¡¯t kill him.¡± Her voice had an edge to it. ¡°He¡¯s still young. He has his whole life ahead of him. No matter what you find out. You can¡¯t kill him, Pooh.¡± I lay there silent for a minute. ¡°And if he killed Eeyore?¡± ¡°Then you let Rabbit handle it.¡± She knew that was an unsatisfying answer. ¡°Or you tell the big guy and let him handle it.¡± I snorted. ¡°Like he gives a shit about what happens in the 100-acre wood.¡± ¡°He used to.¡± ¡°And I used to be happy. Or at least too dumb to be anything else,¡± I snapped back at her. I saw her face and realized I might have stepped too far. ¡°I thought we were happy, you know. At least for a little while.¡± Kanga sighed. ¡°I thought we had something special. Both of us who had lost so much had gained something back. At least, for a few wonderful months.¡± I had to admit it had been a whirlwind of a time. Just me and her. Her laughter as we tried to catch our own Heffalump. Enjoying picnics in that perfect picnic spot. Playing pranks on Rabbit. Even Eeyore had joined in the fun once or twice, and we had rejoiced in seeing the sad guy smile at least once or twice. Even Roo had seemed to enjoy it. Not quite a child anymore, but not quite a man, he had warmed to Pooh at least a little. At least at first. It was only a few months later I had realized far too late the rage that kid had bottled up inside himself. I still remember when he had unleashed that rage in a burst of explosive anger that made volcanic eruptions like Mt. Pinatubo or Mt. Vesuvius seem more like someone bursting a pimple. And I had the stitches and a pile of bad memories to prove it. ¡°I won¡¯t kill him,¡± I sighed. ¡°For you though. Not for him. He¡¯s gonna go too far one day Kanga. He¡¯s going to go too far, and you won¡¯t be able to save him.¡± She nodded. ¡°I know.¡± She pulled a key out of her pouch and unlocked the handcuffs with a pair of clicks. I pulled away from the bed and rubbed my wrists. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Next time you handcuff me let¡¯s agree to a safeword first, ok?¡± She laughed. It was small. But for a moment I saw the Kanga from years ago. And I was the bear from years ago. If only. ¡°Roo came over this morning. He kept talking about his big break.¡± Kanga¡¯s voice broke. ¡°He, he said he just needed to do one more thing. He hasn¡¯t been back since.¡± I saw the tears in her eyes. ¡°I think something¡¯s happened to him. Deep down I know he¡¯s in something deep.¡± She stood up suddenly. The weight off the bed gently rocking me as i sat up too. ¡°He left something. Said it was for safekeeping.¡± She gestured. ¡°Get dressed and let me know you. I put my shirt and coat on and followed her into the main room. Kitchen, living room and closet all in one, the main room was cluttered beyond saving. Off it was one other door. Roo¡¯s room. She went inside and came back out just a moment later. She held a honey jar in her hand. My blood froze. I felt frozen to the spot I stood. Because I could recognize that jar instantly. It read ¡°HIPY PAPY BTHUTHDTH THUTHDA BTHUTHDY.¡± Which was how Owl had pretended to be able to write Happy Birthday to Eeyore, years ago when I still trusted that bird to do anything halfway competently. It was, to this day, Eeyore¡¯s most favorite position. Was his most favorite possession, I corrected myself. Eeyore was gone. And he was never coming back. She handed it to me. I took it from her with the tips of my fingers and held it out in front of me, as if it might explode any moment. Who knows, maybe it would. But after a few seconds I felt less in danger than I felt silly and so I set it over at the table that doubled as a counter and looked inside. I pulled out one shriveled remnant of a balloon, rolled it in my hands, and smiled. ¡°Is that important?¡± ¡°To me?¡± I answered. ¡°Yes.¡± I put it aside. ¡°For your son and Eeyore¡¯s murder? No.¡± I reached deeper inside and pulled out a few items. The first, a note. Handwritten it seemed. The second was a small glass jar with some dirt in it. I eyed both. Then I put down the glass jar and unfolded the letter. I read the short missive in just a few seconds and picked up the jar again. ¡°What is it?¡± Kanga asked. ¡°It¡¯s insurance. In case your son got in over his head.¡± I tucked the note in my pocket. ¡°He was smarter than he made himself seem, for sure.¡± I tucked the jar inside as my pocket well. ¡°But I have bad news.¡± I could see the anticipation and fear in her eyes. I wouldn¡¯t drag it out. The greatest kindness I could do for her right now is be honest. ¡°It¡¯s also a confession.¡± I tried to keep my voice even, but some of my anger leaked out. ¡°Roo killed Eeyore. It¡¯s all in the note.¡± She sat at the table and broke down, her sobs wracking her entire body. She laid her head down and cried, alternately cursing her own son and calling out for him. I walked past her and out the door. I knew that part of my rush to get out was from a renewed sense of surgery, but the other was simply not to get between a mother and her grief. There would be time for despair. There was always time for despair. What could have only been the morning sun hit me hard across the face. Like a slap courtesy of a violent mother nature. I shielded my eyes from the son. ¡°Pooh?¡± That high-pitched voice again. ¡°Hey Piglet.¡± ¡°I got worried when you weren¡¯t at your house last night.¡± His voice was even. ¡°I figured you might be at Kangas.¡± I nodded. Piglet was smart when he put his mind to it. ¡°I was.¡± ¡°How was it?¡± The question was stuffed full of other questions, like a Russian nesting doll. It was easy to pick which one to answer. ¡°Fruitful. I know who killed Eeyore.¡± Piglet¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Was it¡ª¡± ¡°Hey bear. Hey piglet.¡± I turned to see Rabbit emerge from the bushes. ¡°Piglet told me you might be in trouble?¡± I looked at Piglet. He looked back at me, a sly grin on his face. ¡°For all I know she was going to kill you, Pooh.¡± I smirked. Once again, smarter than he let on. ¡°I am fine, Piglet. The only thing wounded was my dignity.¡± I turned to Rabbit. ¡°I am surprised you could make time for us, Rabbit. You are always so busy.¡± He hopped over and sniffed. ¡°You¡¯ve been poking your head into everyone¡¯s business, haven¡¯t you?¡± He nodded toward the woods. ¡°You know, Owl¡¯s gone. Flew the coop, i suppose. You wouldn¡¯t have had anything to do with that, would you?¡± ¡°I plead the fifth.¡± Rabbit¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°So why are we all here then?¡± ¡°I know who killed Eeyore. And I¡¯m going to find him now.¡± Rabbit shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose there is anything I could say to stop you?¡± I shook my head. I felt Piglet take my hand. And without another word, we marched through the forest. The woods were alive with the typical sounds and smells of the morning. Fresh dew on the grass. Wildflowers. The crackling of branches and the rustle of leaves. I reached out and felt the bark on the oak trees. Rough to the touch. It didn¡¯t take too long for the group to come to a large tree. It looked like all the other large trees in the forest, except it had a big green door at the base. I didn¡¯t stop and walked right up to the door. I could see it was ajar. I looked back, and Piglet and Rabbit simply stared at me. I guess I am taking the lead on this one I pushed the door open. It creaked gently from age. Roo lay in the middle of the room. My eyes swam in details. The gun. The pool of blood originating at his head. The broken chair. A note resting gently on the table. I picked it up and glanced at it. I called out to the others. ¡°It¡¯s safe.¡± Rabbit came through first. He whistled. ¡°Another suicide?¡± I choked down the words. Instead of disagreeing with him. Instead of pointing out to him everything that jumped out at me. The placement of the wound. The placement of the gun. The broken chair. Two glasses on the table, half empty each. Instead of pointing out each and every one of those things. Instead, I did something I didn¡¯t often do. I lied. ¡°Yes. Roo must have been distraught over having killed Eeyore in a rage.¡± I put a hand on Rabbit¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I won¡¯t get in the way on this one, Rabbit. Do what you do best.¡± Two stunned pairs of eyes watched me as I walked out the door. I emerged back into the light, my heart racing. I unfolded the note one more time and looked at it. To Edward Bear. It was not a suicide note. Or a confession. It was an invitation. But first, I had work to do. Chapter 5: The Honey Pot On Friday¡ª The sun was just beginning to set and I was so damn tired. But I had an appointment to keep. The note left by Roo¡¯s body had been meant for me, and it had directed me to the edge of the 100-acre wood, past the big tree with the door at the base, past Owl¡¯s now vacant house. Past Eeyore¡¯s house. The person who had left that note was the person who had killed Roo. And I knew who that was. The letter had been addressed to Edward Bear, a name I had not gone by in a long, long time. And only one person knew that name. I pushed aside the tree. A man was sitting on a stump several feet away. He must have heard me approach, because he reached a hand out and patted a stump next to him. ¡°Come have a seat you silly old bear.¡± I sat down and turned to him, ¡°It¡¯s been a long time, Christopher Robin.¡± "It''s Chris now." Gone was the blonde-haired boy with scraggly hair and too short shorts with the frayed shoes and generous smile. In its place was an adult, well-groomed hair and jeans. There was also little humor to his expression. ¡°I assume you have questions, you silly old bear.¡± ¡°You are only partly right.¡± I offered. He arched an eyebrow. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I do have questions. And I am old.¡± I paused. ¡°But I am definitely not silly. I am angry.¡± He smiled. ¡°Oh you are? And why is that, serious, old bear?¡± ¡°Why did you kill Eeyore and Roo?¡± Silence. ¡°I didn¡¯t kill Eeyore.¡± I shook my head. ¡°No, I know. You got Roo to do it. Put it in his mind that there was an escape. A way out. Offer him the world. Or at least, the chance to leave. All he had to do was kill a friend. Right? Easy peasy. Keep your hands clean.¡± Christopher didn¡¯t say anything. So I kept going. ¡°What I don¡¯t get, is why you had to kill Roo. why not just let him go? Let him live his life?¡± I kept as much of the anger out of my voice as possible. ¡°Why kill him?¡± Another bout of silence. This time I waited. And waited. Finally, Christopher Robin, or the man now calling himself Chris, spoke. ¡°He knew too much. He could have ruined it all.¡± I sniffed. ¡°Just like Eeyore?¡± Christopher sighed. ¡°How much do you know?¡± I nodded toward the construction equipment and heavy machinery parked just down the slope from us. It was just over the property line, but i could tell they were gearing up to move soon. Piles of lumber and stone were strategically placed along a clearing. ¡°You are trying to sell the 100-acre wood to a developer. You were just this close,¡± i held a thumb and forefinger about a centimeter apart, ¡°from sealing the deal. Everything seemed fine. Until Eeyore found out.¡± Christopher was about to speak, but i held up a hand to forestall him. ¡°He was going to derail the deal, wasn¡¯t he? So you engineer a little suicide to keep your payday. Then you eliminate Roo and close the circle on your little secret. After all, who''s going to miss a depressive and a violent misfit?¡± I kicked a rock and it went skittering down the hill. ¡°We¡¯re all just disposable to you.¡± We sat there in silence again. I watched the construction equipment. For any sign of movement down there, beyond the border that I never dared cross. Not that I had ever tried. I pulled a small bottle of honey out of the pocket of my coat. It was the same bottle i had taken from Eeyore¡¯s. I popped the cork and poured just a tablespoon into my mouth. I embraced the warmth that followed. Christopher eyed me. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°McMansions.¡± I put the bottle down. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Everyone wants a big house, 6 bedrooms, 6 bathrooms, big lot. Everyone wants one of those tacky abominations, and they are willing to pay top dollar for them. It takes a quarter acre to get them to a million-dollar price tag. This,¡± he swept a hand back toward the 100-acre wood, ¡°this place could fit 400 mcmansions, if I played my cards right, at $1 million a pop. The developer would take his chair, and the county too. But my share Pooh,¡± his eyes practically shown, ¡°My share would be $100 million. One million for each and every acre of this 100-acre wood.¡± I knew what was coming next. ¡°Eeyore found out about your little secret. About what¡¯s in the ground?¡± Christopher laughed. But it wasn¡¯t like the carefree laughter of a child playing with his animal friends. Or leading an expedition to the north pole or throwing a party for a friend. It was the brittle laugh of a man who sees his dreams evaporate and did anything he could to salvage them. ¡°The soil contains elevated levels of arsenic, beryllium, cadmium, copper, lead, nickel, and zinc,¡± Christopher spoke as if he was reading from a report. A soil report, to be exact, as Pooh had assumed it would be. ¡°It is our opinion that such soil would be unsafe to construct residential facilities upon, as it would be hazardous.¡± He turned to Pooh. ¡°Eeyore confronted me. I tried to calm him. To cut him in on the action too. All he had to do was stay silent.¡± Christopher sighed. ¡°But I knew he wouldn¡¯t. That was when I decided¡­¡± ¡°That he had to die?¡± I finished. Christopher nodded. But it was weak. ¡°And one thing led to another ¡­¡± he trailed off. ¡°I wish you hadn¡¯t found out, Pooh. But you did. You always do.¡± ¡°Or my name wasn¡¯t Edward Bear.¡± I offered. ¡°You had two names as a kid, as you always liked to say. And so did I.¡± He laughed. ¡°I know. And it will make it so much harder when I kill you too.¡± I couldn¡¯t help the shiver that raced down my spine. I had no doubt that this man I had called my friend so many years ago would throttle the stuffing out of me if he thought it would make him one dollar richer. Too bad it wouldn¡¯t. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that, Christopher.¡± I said as he reached for me. He stopped. I continued. ¡°You see, I found out about the soil. I guessed that it was development. Kanga had seen the construction equipment prepping. I knew Roo wasn¡¯t smart enough to stage a convincing suicide. But he was smart enough to leave a note. A note about how you directed all of it. How you bribed owl to clean up the crime scene. About the soil reports. And I have that letter somewhere safe. And If I die,¡± I looked at him, ¡°it goes straight to the police.¡± Christopher stopped. ¡°When this is all over, you won¡¯t have a home you old bear. You won¡¯t have anywhere to go.¡± I shook my head. ¡°Oh, I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Christopher. But I found the soil sample that Eeyore had tested. And I sent it off to the county alongside the notes I took from Roo¡¯s letter.¡± As if on cue, the construction equipment began to come to life, engineers roaring. But instead of starting in on the 100-acre wood, they began to turn away. Christopher leaped to his feat and screamed. ¡°No. No. No.¡± He whirled on me. ¡°You can¡¯t do this. You can¡¯t.¡± He reached out with both hands around my neck. I could see the rage in his eyes. The despair. The look of a man that gambled his own morality and had lost. And he had lost. ¡°The note.¡± I gasped. ¡°Remember the note.¡± It took longer than I had hoped, but Christopher let go, slowly. I took in a deep breath, then another. He sat there, watching the vehicles leave, one by one, his dreams evaporating and dissipating like the smoke from their tailpipes. ¡°Maybe not new houses, but mark my words Pooh. I will figure out something. And I will gladly sacrifice all of this little childhood remnant for that money.¡± He said. He had never sounded more sure of anything in as long as I had known him. ¡°Oh, I very much doubt it, Christopher.¡± I spoke slowly and clearly. To make sure he fully understood. ¡°I have submitted these woods for inclusion as a national refuge and park. It turns out that there are several animals and species of plant that are threatened, and nothing can be built here anyway.¡± I downed the rest of Eeyore¡¯s honey in one long gulp. I stood up. Christopher had a look of horror on his face. ¡°You didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°I have. And I did,¡± I walked away. ¡°Pretty good for a silly old bear, right?¡± I walked back through the brush and into the setting sun as I ran into a familiar figure. Piglet stood there as if holding vigil. Perhaps he had been. But as I walked, he fell in beside me, a creature of friendship and habit. I still did not know how much I should tell him about our once best friend. About how far he had fallen. What he had done. Perhaps it was better to leave Piglet with a world that made sense. A world, however cruel, that was still brighter than the one we lived in. ¡°Would you like to try to catch a Heffalump with me?¡± Maybe it was all the honey, but I found myself smiling. ¡°Of course, friend. We can try.¡± We walked along again in silence for a few moments. ¡°It¡¯s a very funny thing, Piglet.¡± ¡°What is?¡± He looked at me. ¡°Life, Piglet.¡± ¡°Maybe.¡± He kicked a small rock and it bounced down the hill. ¡°But you found Eeyore¡¯s killer. You solved the case. And at least it¡¯s all over now.¡± I nodded. But I didn¡¯t believe it. Christopher Robin would be back, I knew it. Owl would not be gone forever either. Rabbit would always be up to no good, and Kanga, well ¡ª she was trouble with a capital ¡°T.¡± No. It wasn¡¯t over. Not by a long shot. I looked out over the 100-acre wood, the sun¡¯s brilliant rays streaming over the horizon. It was just beginning.