Tuesday, October 24

'neath Pooh's Pointy Yellow Shoe 

Okay, we seem to be on a roll. Kindly bear with our coolness factor :-D

We were asked to imagine a terribly messy room (or even a house) full of clutter. The nature of the mess or clutter was left to us to decide. The point is, there is such an awful lot of it that the owner/resident has disappeared into the mess. Yes, disappeared. We were asked to write about how he/she got into this predicament, speculate on how or whether he/she will ever get out of the mess...this, a take off on our own Stuffaholicism piece below. Ahem.


He’s pudgy, he’s strong, and his hold’s tacky as glue,
I feel asphyxiated, someone tell him, this Pooh!
It all began, whilst trying to find Barbie’s pink purse,
I slid on ducky’s slithery back, and got hit by a curse;
ooh, aah, ouch, does it hurt… ‘neath Pooh’s pointy yellow shoe!

Yes, that’s how it all began, really. And I’m done making rhyme. I know it’s a little off the wall, but what isn’t, these days? (Especially given that we’re always looking at things from the other side). It was a routine Sunday morning, and I had started to stack some deserted Lego blocks in their haven, the translucent cherry-tinted plastic sack that had assumed many of their shapes, swelling here, and scrunching there, over time. Let’s face it – it wasn’t an ordinary task – there were many blocks to stumble over. And for all one knew, a whole new pile of them was building up elsewhere; besides, it was impossible to accomplish this task without wondering where Barbie’s pink purse had mysteriously vanished, or why Froggie shrieked even before being nudged. Anyhow, I was doggedly going about the task, and I heard her yelp “Fall Oun, Caefool,” (read fall down, careful), from the other room. I darted and barged in there to see that she was, in fact, cautioning Pooh, and not me. I had carried Barbie’s teacup unknowingly on my scrunchie, and she noticed it instantly. So Barbie somehow came into the picture, and then I embarked upon another mighty task – to put her kettle and teacups in order. Of course, I had had a vision that morning that a mauve saucer was hiding under the couch, and it turned out to be true. I shrugged at the thought, wondering why I couldn’t envisage where the purse had taken cover.

I decided to explore the disarray that had swathed an otherwise orderly room with its shadowy, threatening veil. I looked under Eeyore’s belly, the broken red vase, by the shredder, behind the bookshelf – all in vain. Suddenly, an orange ball with a buck-toothed rabbit on it, came plummeting down from nowhere, and knocked me off. I could swear that the rabbit was laughing and mocking at me, but it didn’t seem to be of extreme importance at the time.

I woke to an untraceable tract of darkness, but it didn’t take much light to figure out that I had shrunk. Considerably. I was certain it wasn’t a dream. I yelled and howled for help with all amain, but to no avail. Hours have gone by, and not only have I not found the purse yet, I have also been unable to figure out where exactly I am. I have since ambled about, and feasted on morsels of “Number 3” arrowroot cookies, and smidgens of cherry puffs and fruit drops, but there’s no water in sight. For the first time I’m wishing that she spill some juice on the carpet. It has gotten grubby out here, but I genuinely hope he doesn’t decide to vacuum and siphon me off. My hair, which is precisely all of 4 strands and a half, has gathered much dust and salt.

Well, I’m nearly getting used to this. It’s quite an escapade, if you ask me. I think I’m going sightsee and have some fun afterall.




Darn, I lost you. You see, I was turning around the corner of Lilo’s tail end, wondering if I should make a right to get to the singin' rockin' aquarium, and then, of a blaring sudden, he landed on me, in one big swoop. I had heard some faint drone of him “Popetty-Pop”ing and a round of tiny-handed applause, but I hadn’t imagined Pooh would choose poor little me to tread his next weighty step on. His shoe has this logo stamped on its underside, and I think I’m wedged in between the flanges. I really need to get out of here. The twinge is killing me.

Don’t just sit there and stare at the diminutive script. GO GET YOUR MAGNIFYING GLASS NOW AND GET POOH OFF. And meanwhile, it would help greatly if you could croon a mean “Help is on its way…” I can still hear, YOU SEE!

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