I just took a little vacation, and came back to find a huge pile of pooh. It really builds up if you don’t clean it up.
Oh…bother. I guess this skirts around being a copyright case by secretly being a mouse in a tan body suit. Or perhaps an automaton made of tasty tasty bread. Mmmm, breadbear. Pass me the honey. The crunching will be glorious.
Is that a shirt, or partial body armor? That can’t possibly be comfortable, it’d be like wearing thick clay shoulder pads. Who’s your tailor? Klaus Nomi?
Next inmate of Bizarro 100-Acre Woods: Boarlet.
If you found the piglet of your youth to be wishy-washy, meek, a weird little guy in a pudding-sack, you’d be right—and you’re ready for Boarlet. Fear him, the manliest tiny pig. A mighty lumberjack of the swine world. A fine, fine hunk of pork.
And ladies, he’s single!
Brought to you by Pepsico. Proudly not dumping owl-mutating defoliants into trickling woodland streams for over 30 days.
The 100-Acre Woods is as much a place of the imagination as it is a real time, a real place. It is the woodland a five-year-old boy wanders through, it is what he sees. He has not, we understand, studied Euclidean geometry, topology, or drafting. Sometimes, Boarlet likes to go out on his front porch, stretch his legs and walk up the side of his tree in defiance of gravity and sanity, until his old friend Pooh slides weirdly along the ground like a sidewinder snake.
It’s probably those mushrooms they’ve been eating.
Texas Thrift on I35 near 51st, Austin