Here is my second successive Winnie the Pooh crossover ficlet. This time I’ll keep the crossover as a surprise – although not much of a Surprise as there is a Rather Obvious Clue... PG, 500 words.
House At Pooh Corner
Pooh Hummed a little Hum as he waited for his turn to see the doctor.
“The pain in my Tum
Is eased when I Hum
It makes me go Numb
In my little Tum.”
It didn’t really work but it passed the time. Eventually his turn came and he went in to see the doctor. “Edward Bear,” said the medical man. “Stomach pains. Humph. A disgustingly simple case.”
“I have a pain in my Tummy,” Pooh said. “Christopher Robin said that you could cure me.”
“Pain. Yes.” The doctor took a bottle of painkillers from a cabinet. He poured out a dozen and filled a paper cup with water.
“That’s rather a lot of pills,” Pooh said, nervously. “I don’t think the pain in my Tummy is quite that bad.”
“Oh, these aren’t for you,” said the doctor. “They’re for me.” He scooped the pills into his mouth, swallowed hard, and washed them down with the water. “Now to deal with you.” He poked and prodded Pooh’s swollen Tummy and listened with a stethoscope. He grimaced, stared at the stethoscope with disgust, and rinsed the end of it under a tap.
“There are two possible causes of your symptoms,” the doctor declared. “One is that a hideous tropical parasitic worm has taken up residence in your intestinal tract. If that is the case then you will have to undergo a severe course of powerful drugs. You will be desperately ill for weeks. Your fur will fall out. It even carries a risk of blindness as a side-effect.”
Pooh shuddered. “I don’t think I like that idea very much,” he said. “I’m rather attached to my fur. What is the other Possibility?”
The doctor’s lips formed into something approximating to a smile. “A surfeit of Hunny,” he said. “A day of abstinence and it will clear right up. Unfortunately if the cause really was the worm it would probably kill you. However I don’t think there’s much risk of that. The stickiness around your muzzle, on your paws, and even on the fur of your swollen little tummy is something of a give-away. A simple diagnosis, in the end, and even my students could probably have worked this one out.”
“Oh dear,” said Pooh. “I have a Horrible Worm. My fur will fall out and I might go blind. This is a Bad Thing. I shall have to wear a Warm Coat. Perhaps Piglet will have to act as my Seeing Eye Animal.”
“I don’t think you followed my explanation,” the doctor said. “You really are a Bear of Very Little Brain, aren’t you? My diagnosis was that you’re suffering from a surfeit of Hunny.” He gritted his teeth and spoke very slowly and precisely. “You ate too much Hunny. You’ll get better if you just lay off the Hunny for a day or two. Got it?”
“That’s silly,” said Pooh. “It has to be the Horrible Parasitic Worm. How could there possibly be such a thing as too much Hunny?”