Second Pointless Literary Exercise

I teach children and recently read them a story from Winnie-the-Pooh. For this pointless literary exercise, I decided to rewrite one of the stories from the collection.

He was down by the stream when I found him, even more miserable than usual. There are times when dealing with him feels like stepping over an electrified fence, as in you fear getting shocked. In fact, he strives to create shocking situations. It’s a lot like a child’s behaviour. 

Today was a day when I didn’t think I had a care in the world. I‘m far from a model person, being  full of bitterness and forever ready to blame those around me for everything that goes wrong. However, today was full of sunshine and new flowers and colours that have been impossible through the entire winter. These things weren’t spoilt by his brattish behaviour. Instead, I couldn’t bring myself to concentrate on him.

Still, I found out what was irking him today. I asked him once and he said it was nothing. I stood there being quiet for a while. Then I just stood there, not consciously doing anything. I spent a while looking at the flowers and colours around us, all illuminated and wonderful in the bright of day. He got a bit shifty and asked me if I wanted some tea. The pot, a full, big one, was sat outside with his book. This tea was cold, yellow, pale, but tasted good. It was tepid enough to retain some of its tea-ness, to still have some of the effect it‘s supposed to. I tasted a delicious fragrance.

We were stood together then and he said that what was bothering him was not that it was his birthday and everyone had forgotten but that he was alone and being alone got tiring. He said that he needed occasions of togetherness, even if it was just silent communion and his birthday, while not being the ideal day to force some togetherness on himself or others, was a day when aloneness became starkly conspicuous.

After finishing another cup of tea and talking to him for a while longer, I went off. I followed the stream back to the bridge. I stopped briefly to try and pat the horse on his long nose, but he wouldn’t come to the fence.

I went round to Piggy’s and told him that we were going to get together that night and that he should bring something and that we’d need some drinks as well. I also went round to Rabbit’s but he wasn’t there.

Later on, I cooked for all of us and gave him this pot of organic, local honey as well, since he is always drinking hot lemon and honey, whether or not he has a cold. Come to think of it, he is always complaining of having a sore throat.

I had to open the honey when we were having hot drinks after dinner and even though I was opening it to make him his hot lemon and honey, he still scowled a bit at his present being opened. Back inside (They were sat outside with the mosquitoes and spring chill and this smell that reminds me of my childhood, something like frog spawn, the damp earth all fertile - not sure what it is that creates that smell, it’s not a pleasant smell but I like it.) I scooped up a spoonful of this honey and put it in my mouth. It was very good. I held the spoon over my tongue for some time, letting the honey go a bit soft, then I swallowed the lot.

Piggy had brought this sort of unwearable brooch that he had made out of a beer bottle cap and a piece of wood. In a way it looked nice, it had some colours on it. A bit fell off though. This bit that fell off was a wire loop that went round the wood. Neither piggy nor he could get it back on again, but he still seemed happy, he was distracted and kept talking loudly and laughing.