Green, disgusting walls. The green, disgusting walls were all I could focus on as I walked down the hospital's halls. So chilling-to-the-core, the grim walls which had reminded me of green slime oozing from the wall; it showed the true depression all hospitals always try to hide.
And I was here to get my tonsils out... on Nightmare Night... without my video games, but that isn't the reason why this would be the most terrifying Nightmare Night I have ever had. "But, Mo-o-o-o-m! I don't wanna' get my tonsils out! I've grown attached to them!"
My mom looked down at me and smiled, "Oh, Button! It's not a big deal; you'll always have next year!" She said with a roll of her eyes.
I harumph-ed and grumbled out under my breath, "I won't get as much candy next year; I'll be older and not as cute. Mo-o-o-m! All the other colts don't have to get their tonsils taken out!" I whined.
"That's because all the other colts doesn't get a lot of sore throats like you do; weren't you complaining about how 'squeaky' your voice was?" she was keeping track of the numbers placed on the doors, "10, 11, 12... 13! O-o-h! Look, Button, your room!" Mom placed her hoof on my shoulder turning me to face the room; I didn't introduce myself, I'm Button Mash and the room my mom just showed me has my new roommate in it...
"I'M NOT FEATHERWEIGHT!" a Pegasus colt, about the same age as me, screamed, scaring the heebie-jeebies out of me and my mom.
"Featherwei-i-ght! We just need to draw some blood!" a pink mare with a purple mane explained to the colt.
"I'M NOT FEATHERWEIGHT!!" he whined again, "I'm not Featherweight, I'm not Featherweight, I'M NOT FEATHERWEIGHT!!!!" the colt protested again and again.
"Featherwei-i-ght... calm down. We-- oh, excuse me for a second, dear," a white earth pony mare with a pink mane excused herself from not-Featherweight and made her way over to me and my mom. "You must be Button Mash, right?" she smiled at me and looked at my mom.
"Yeah, hi," I responded lamely.
Mom took over and was taken to the front desk, they should call it middle desk though, she started filling out paperwork. The white mare came back over to me and smiled again, "Well, Button, are you nervous?"
I blushed, slightly, chuckled a little, "Haha! Yeah, a little bit."
The nurse's smile turned a little more caring and less amused when she saw me gulp, "There's nothing to be afraid of; you're just here for a tonsilectemy. Other fillies and colts are here for worse reasons," she turned her head back towards the room where not-Featherweight was. "Poor Featherweight."
"What happened?" My mother, who likes to come back into attention suddenly and quietly, popped her head into the conversation.
The nurse just signed and turned back towards us with another smile on her face, "Let's get you in a gown, Button, shall we?"
---
Nurse Redheart, as I heard my mom call the white mare; was fiddling with some tubes on the metal rack with some bags on it. I guess she finally got it after ten minutes because she looked pleased with how the bags were. "All right, Button," she looked back down at me, "you're all set. You're tonsils are scheduled to be out by tomorrow morning. So all you have to do now is relax."
"I'M NOT FEATHERWEIGHT!" A frown formed on Nurse Redheart's face and she sighed; she pinched the bridge of her snout with her fetlock.
"What's that all about?" my mom asked again.
"Featherweight is in for surgery tomorrow," Redheart moved in closer to me and my mom, "he's having his left hind-hoof removed," she moved back and nodded her head at me and my mom simultaneous gasp, "It's sad, I know; and every time we call him by his name he just protests and refuses to agree with anything we try to help him with. He keeps trying to convince us that he's not him. Poor Featherweight." she shook her head from side-to-side again.
Mom scrunched up her nose and counter-attacked Redheart's explanation, "Are you sure you got the right colt?"
Nurse Redheart chuckled, "Yes, we're sure, we always quadruple check when it comes to patients who say they're not who they are. But, let's stray from that, you have a big day tomorrow and you need all the rest you can get. You 'Mom' should wait in the Waiting Room after you say goodbye 'til tomorrow." Redheart made her way over to room number 13's door and left without another word.
Mom turned to look at me and smiled again; I got a lot of smiles that day, "You'll be alright waiting here without me?"
I smiled back; I smiled a lot, too, "Yeah, mom, I'll be fine. Don't worry. Bye, I love you, bless you, goodnight!"
She gave me a quizzical look, repeated our ritual, then left the room.
---
'Bout an hour later I was half way through, like, my tenth comic book, Daring Do and the Perilous Capturing of Captain Peruvios the Pirate Pegasus!. I looked to my side and noticed my tenth comic book was also my last; I sighed and breathed some very "un-gentlecolt-ly" words, as mom would call it, about what I was about to do. I pulled myself over to the right side of my bed and pushed the ugly, green curtain aside, revealing my roommate, not-Featherweight. "Uh, hi? You're Featherweight, right?" I mentally slapped myself as I remembered earlier.
"I'm. Not. Featherweight!" he crossed his arms and angrily pouted at me; I cringed.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, 'bout that," a pause. "W-well, what do you like to do in, like, you know, you're freetime or something?" I smiled nervously and waited for a response.
"Featherweight"'s pout disappeared and a contemplative frown was in its place, "Well, sometimes l like to play a little soccer; how 'bout you?" he looked up at me.
"I like soccer, too! I also really, really love video games," I smiled at "Featherweight" and he smiled back.
This went back and forth for awhile; me and "Featherweight and I actually had a lot in common: we both liked video games, soccer, hated homework, loved recess, we didn't go to the same school, though; that was a bummer. He relaxed more, too; sitting up in bed, laughing, etcetera. But, then, he asked a really strange question, "Are you a sound-sleeper or a light-sleeper, Button?" "Featherweight" asked with genuine curiosity.
I jumped at the sudden, and unexpected question, but I decided answer anyway; like, what would happen? "Um... a sound-sleeper, I guess?"
"Featherweight" looked at me doe-eyed for a little bit, then, abruptly shut the curtains close.
I was shocked for a bit; I mean, he totally opened up, talked to me, acted like a normal pony-being, then, out of nowhere he just suddenly acts like he wasn't speaking to anyone or he didn't know who was? I got over it after a little bit and yawned; loudly, "I should go to sleep; it's probably, like, ten o'clock or something," I turned over and pulled ugly, lime green sheets on top of my pony.
---
I had a strange dream that night, at least, I think it was a dream. I dreamt that colt was in the front of my bed, holding two clipboards in his hooves; one with my name on it and the other; I couldn't see the other. He had a malicious glint in his eyes and a sadistic smile upon his face, but I couldn't see the specific characteristics of his face to make out who he was. The mysterious colt took the clipboard with my name and moved out of sight.
I don't know if I was awake or asleep when I saw this, either, but I saw two white-coated stallions on both sides of my bed. I was groggy so I didn't move or ask any questions. One of the stallions looked at my clipboard and nodded, saying, "This is him," to the other stallion. They grabbed the sides of my bed and started rolling me out of the room and into the hall. I decided I had to say something, so I did, "Hey, what are you doing?!"
"Our job, kid," one of the stallions responded.
"Wait, but my surgery isn't until five hours from now!" I jumped up in the bed; causing the other stallion to hold me down with his hoof.
"Featherweight, calm down. The surgery won't even hurt; you'll be under anesthesia. You'll sleep right through it," I was slack-jawed. "What?! I'm not Featherweight! I'm not Featherweight!" No response, "I'm not Featherweight! Take me back to my room right now! I'm not Featherweight! I'm not Featherweight!"
"We were told to ignore you," one said, "They said you would say that and told us not to believe anything that comes out of your mouth," he said without looking back at me.
"But, I'm not Featherweight! I'm not Featherweight! I'm the wrong colt! I'm not Featherweight!" I was terrified, I was confused, angry, sad, horrified! "I'M NOT FEATHERWEIGHT!" I looked back and saw Featherweight; standing in the doorway, waving goodbye to me as I rolled down the hall.
Smiling that malicious smile...