We are sorry to say that we are writing to you today on a dreadful and unfortunate subject. We, the other residents of the Hundred Acre Wood, have discussed it in depth, and we have decided that this issue can no longer go unaddressed. We approach you as an almost-unanimous front, with the exception of Piglet, who has begged us to exclude him from this confrontation.
It has become very obvious to us over the past few months that you might not be who you say you are. Everyone in the Hundred Acre Wood has their duty, however small. Some of us garden. Some of us arrange fun activities. Some of us ground the others with a needed dose of pessimism. Even Pooh offers the occasional helpful insight. Your performance as the neighborhood intellectual, however, has become questionable at best.
Allow us to explain our reasoning. On more than one occasion, you have misread important notes from Christopher Robin, leading us to believe that he is in imminent danger and, in some cases, even leading us into life-threatening situations. Yes, Owl, Christopher Robin has explained to us that the “Backson” and the “Skullasaurus” are not real. By believing what you say, we have gotten into some very sticky situations. What you stand to gain from crafting these intricate deceptions is beyond us, and frankly, bordering on sociopathy. Tigger may have been wrong about Heffalumps and Woozles, but he doesn’t pretend to be something he’s not.
In addition, your self-absorbed nature has caused you to often overlook simple details that could have saved us a lot of trouble. If you really went to a Poison Ivy League school, wouldn’t you have been capable of noticing that Eeyore’s tail was a tail and not a doorbell ringer? Apparently not, because we lost an entire day searching for it while it was hidden away at your house. As the only bird in our group, there are a number of problems you could have solved with flight, but the opportunity was missed, either because it didn’t occur to you, or you were too busy giving us long-winded lectures.
That being said, we are sad to say that we no longer need you as our resident reader and writer. It will be difficult to get by, being illiterate, but we have decided that we are probably better off fending for ourselves, especially considering that we spend most of our time hunting down monsters of your own making. Please believe us when we say that it does not bring us joy to take this role away from you, but we really do think it’s for the best. After this letter, which we appreciate you taking dictation for, we will no longer require your services.
The Residents of the Hundred Acre Wood