A Loose Magical Cannon
As soon as I enter the hospital, I know this is gonna be an awesome day.
Wait, did I say ‘awesome’? I must be getting insane or something. I somehow ended up getting the night shift on New Year’s Eve. That’s like, second or third worst night in the year, right after the Hearth’s Warming Eve, where typical stuff involves several cases of food poisoning, a pegasus who almost suffocated due to Commander Hurricane’s outfit being too tight, and a unicorn stallion with a banana stuck in his nose – a result of a family argument.
One can argue whether Nightmare Night is worse that New Year’s Eve; this year it was someone who almost drowned while bobbing for apples, a foal that, to put it mildly, got scared literally shitless (lots of cleaning once we got him out of the costume), and a unicorn mare who got an orange stuck in her– Well, you get the idea; this family just can’t stop arguing.
“Hello, Sweetheart!” Atom Heart yells. Well, she’s always yelling for some reason. She’s physically unable to speak quietly. “Too bad you weren’t here on Hearth’s Warming Eve. You missed a great night, I’m telling ya!”
Somehow, I don’t regret. At least I slept in my bed, with my husband. And I saw my kid, you know. There was a moment when I was spending so much time at work that I’m pretty sure my daughter’s first words were “where’s the fucking trocar?”.
Meanwhile, Atom Heart is getting even louder and more excited. My head hurts and I didn’t even start working.
“How’s your husband?” she asks. “All Aboard, right?”
“He’s going to Manehattan today,” I reply, trotting to the changing room. “And before you ask, my daughter is fine and I’m pretty sure she didn’t have a cutie mark when I last saw her.”
“Well, with your schedules, I still wonder how did you two manage to…” Atom Heart smirks. “You know…”
“I have big needs,” I reply, patting my flank. Judging by Atom Heart’s smile, I’ll have to keep participating in the social interaction. “How do you like the ER?”
You know, that tall, lanky orange mass of insanity known as Atom Heart usually sits in the basement, right next to that big X-ray machine. And believe me, all the tests are wrong and something radioactive must be leaking from it – there’s no way Atom Heart is normal.
“One pegasus came here and said that her wing hurt, so I gave her pills,” Atom Heart replies. “Those funny ones.”
I sigh and look at her. “Was her name Cloud Kicker, by any chance?”
“How did you know?”
“Have you ever bothered to read our ‘patients we don’t give pills to’ list?” I sigh and put on my hat. Now I’m officially at work. “She’s at the top of it.”
Before Atom Heart can reply, I walk to one of the treatment rooms. What the fuck happened here? The whole place is in a mess; there are syringes and other medical equipment scattered everywhere, a bloody smear on the wall… Someone ever wrote a prescription on the wall using blood. And what’s the worst, there are still patients there.
“What are they doing here?!” I yell at Atom Heart. “They should either be discharged or put in the wards they belong to!”
Atom Heart gulps. “I… I wasn’t sure…”
I take a look at the patients, sitting or lying on the desk or the gurneys. “Home, home, trauma ward, home, morgue, paediatrics ward, morgue, maternity ward, morgue…”
“You know that each time you say ‘morgue’ you point at the same patient, right?” Atom Heart asks.
“Then why is he lying on three different gurneys?” I sigh and roll my eyes. “What even happened to this one?”
Atom Heart looks at the body and winces. “Testing fireworks before tonight. Something backfired, I guess.”
Why is he even here? It’s obvious that he’s not getting better!”
“I thought I’d consult someone…” Atom Heart backpedals.
“I told her that she should consult someone,” the mare I labelled as ‘maternity ward’ says. “That was after she tried to tell me that I have diarrhea.”
I take a look at the mare. I can’t exactly see her face because of her large belly, but given the circumstances and the position she’s lying in, I’ll soon look into the eyes of her newborn kid. “Atom Heart, take her to the maternity ward. Like, now.”
“Where?”
I sigh and look at the patients. “Guys who should go home, can go home now. They rest are not supposed to listen.”
Some of the patients walk out. The rest: the kid, the guy with a broken hoof, the dismembered corpse, and the pregnant mare nod. Well, except the corpse, but he can’t hear me anyway.
I turn to Atom Heart. “Cunts and Runts.”
Atom Heart slaps her forehead with her hoof. “Ah, there! I knew it wasn’t its real name!”
“If you were any brighter, you’d be able to read at night without a lamp,” I mutter. Which, to think about it, is pretty likely. Well, at least I get rid of her and that pregnant mare. Now I’ll take care of the rest.
Before I can ask the guy with a broken hoof what happened to him, the door opens again. I turn to it, wondering who it may be.
Well, at least it’s not Atom Heart. But it doesn’t mean that it’s a good news.
“Hello,” Nursery Rhyme says and points at the corpse. “The surgeons managed to sew this guy’s friend back together. What’s going on?”
“You tell me,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “While the entire night shift consisted of you and that living proof that radiation is bad for ponies? And, judging from the schedule, it also seemed to be the case on Hearth’s Warming Eve?”
“Atom has a lot of enthusiasm,” Nursery Rhyme replies. “Though frankly, I tried to leave only the easier patients for her.” She looks at the walls. “In hindsight, that was probably a bad idea.”
“Do tell.” I sigh. Even though Nursery is an annoying little shit who keeps scheming with Redheart, at least she’s not Atom Heart. She reached the stage when you don’t have to watch out for her during the whole shift and you can dump all the crappiest jobs on her without worrying about her screwing up.
“Well, everything went wrong in Autumn when it turned out Redheart wasn’t coming,” Nursery replies. “Let’s say that Atom was the only replacement I could find. It was Coldheart’s birthday yesterday and I guess she’s hungover now, and I’ve heard that you wanted to spend some time with your husband…”
Oh yeah. I still can’t walk straight. No wonder this guy works as a conductor; the pistons of a train engine are a quite appropriate metaphor of what we were doing. “How about Tenderheart? And what exactly happened to Redheart?”
“Tenderheart was celebrating Coldheart’s birthday, I guess.” Nursery shrugs. “Also, didn’t you hear? Redheart is in the nuthouse.”
What? I mean, I’ve heard she’s on a sick leave, but why do I learn about it only now? “How so?”
“She fought well, but the patient with a bowling ball in her cooch finally defeated her,” Nursery replies, sighing and looking at her hooves. “Right after that she went to the psychiatry ward and said that she’s not leaving.”
What the fuck? I look at Nursery, wondering if she’s kidding. Probably not. She’s almost completely incapable of lying. “Couldn’t they kick her out?” I ask. “All the nurses in the nuthouse are large muscular guys.”
Not that I looked. I swear.
“The doctor says that if someone wants to stay there on their own will, they must be insane,” Nursery mutters. “I kinda agree. Would you want to stay there?”
“No.”
“See? You’re normal.” Nursery’s eyes light up and she takes a deep breath. “Redheart was also normal, but once she decided to go the nuthouse, it turned out that she was insane because she wanted to go there and since it’s the only place where she feels well, she should technically be considered healthy, but once they kick her out, she wants to get back there again, so she’s insane, the only symptom being a compulsive urge to sit in a padded cell and draw creepy things… Do you catch my drift?”
“No.”
“Did I mention her drawings?” Nursery produces a piece of paper from under her hat and gives it to me. “I got it from that sexy nurse from the psychiatric ward.”
“That’s me getting hit by a train,” I mutter, staring at the picture. “What is that brown and red thing here?”
“Your large intestine.” Nursery takes a look at the picture. “She sucks at realism. Her drawings were slightly better when she went into impressionism.”
I tremble, crumpling the drawing in my hooves. “I don’t want to listen about this impressionism shit again,” I say in the most calm voice I can muster. “I want Redheart back and I swear, if I see Atom Heart here again, I’m gonna fill this place with the corpses of anyone too slow to run away, get it?”
“I get it,” says the guy with a broken leg. “And you’d better do that, little girl, because there’s no way I can outrun her.”
I look at him and sigh. “What are those patients still doing here?” I ask Nursery. “Get this guy to the trauma ward and I’ll take care of the kid.”
After a short trip to the paediatrics, learning that the kid is mostly looking for a way to skip school by pretending that he has ovarian cancer, and giving him a short lecture on anatomy, I get back downstairs to meet Nursery. She’s slightly sweaty after dragging the wheelchair with the patient across the ward, but her expression tells me that she has a plan.
“I think I know how to help Redheart,” she says. “But first you’ll have to convince Heartless to give us a permission to do that.”
Oh, hell no. I’d rather have Bulk Biceps give me a rectal examination.
“If you don’t, I’m asking Atom Heart to come here again.”
For a moment, I fight an urge to strangle her. The patients already complained about me a few times, I admit, so murdering a colleague wouldn’t exactly help me in another disciplinary action taken against me. And remember that I have a daughter to feed.
Not to mention that if it came to a disciplinary action, I’d have to talk with Heartless anyway, so it’s better to do it on as friendly terms as it can get. Which, in her case, still means slight hostility.
“Okay,” I say, avoiding eye contact with Nursery. “But you’ll pay me for this.”
I turn back and walk to Heartless’ office, full of bad feelings. It is sometimes said that one should have their last will written before going there and it’s, by no means, an exaggeration.
We are not sure how old Heartless is, but she once mentioned working in a field hospital during the pony-griffon war and the last proper war we had with those featherbrains was at least a hundred years ago. There were attempts to ask her to retire, but everyone was too scared to actually ask. Best they managed to do was giving her the position of the Head Nurse, so she wouldn’t scare the patients. She outlived countless doctors, nurses, and at least five directors of our hospital.
I’m pretty sure the Pale Horse also wanted to take her, but she just told him to fuck off and let her do her job. She certainly seems like it.
Finally, I reach the door to her room. Or rather a cave – the windows are always closed and obscured by the curtains, and the whole room is filled up with some weird smell. Tenderheart says that it’s because Heartless is long dead and someone had her body taxidermied and attached to strings like a creepy puppet for some reason.
To be honest, I actually looked for strings once, but it seems to me that this old cow’s anus is still alive.
I knock on the door and take a step back, lowering my head. It’s like when you pay an official visit to the Trottoman sultan: avoid eye contact, bow, kiss her wizened ass… Wait, not all of that, I think.
“Come in,” a quiet, but still strong voice calls. I push the door open and walk into the dark room. When my eyes adjust to the lack of light, I see an outline of a blanket-wrapped pony sitting on an armchair with so much unironic dignity as if she was the Princess herself.
“Come closer,” the voice commands from under the blanket. I obey, walking as close to her as I dare. Which is still quite far.
“Ah,” Nurse Heartless mutters. “You’re Sweetheart. The one whose life revolves around her ass.”
“What?” I exclaim, forgetting why I am there. “Nurse Heartless, with all due respect–”
“Shut up.” She hisses these words silently, yet it’s enough for me to take a step back, tripping and sitting on the floor. “You keep comparing ponies, situations, and everything to ass, shit, taking a dump, rectal exams, intestines, and other such malarkey. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you calling me an old cow’s anus.”
Wha– Wait. I did it only once, just before coming here. And I only thought that. Is that old sack of sh– shamrocks telepathetic, or what?
“I believe the proper form is ‘telepathic’,” Nurse Heartless mutters. “And no, I’m not. Anyway, I think you wanted to ask me about something. And don’t tell me that you didn’t, because no one comes here on their own.” She gives out a chuckle that sounds like creaking of an old tomb’s door.
“Well…” I mutter. “I guess you heard about Redheart, right?”
“She works here,” Heartless replies. “Thirty-one, no children, single, open for adventures, works in the hospital for seven years, good with children, short-tempered, saved at least twenty hopeless cases. Porn preference: normal. Currently insane.”
“Do you keep a file on everyone?” I ask.
“No, why would I?” Heartless shrugs and coughs. “Everything’s in my head.”
Well, I fear to think what this old fart has on me.
“Nurse Sweetheart, thirty-six, consumes twice the recommended daily sugar intake regularly, married, one daughter, her honesty in presence of the patient caused numerous complaints, anal personality, vulgar, conservative, occasional smoker. Porn preference: bizarre.”
I groan. “Listen up. I didn’t come here to listen to you telling me things you know from who the fuck knows where. I came here because my frie– err, my colleague Nurse Redheart is so deep in the ass of her own mind that she can’t even see the light. And apparently the only way to get her out requires us to break into the psych ward to get her out. Get it?”
“And you wonder why you’re unpopular with the patients,” Heartless deadpans. “Aside from the completely inappropriate form of addressing me, I do think you may be right. If anything, it’ll at least clear the atmosphere.”
“Taking Redheart out and making her work with us?” I ask.
“If that makes the patients see you less,” Heartless replies. “I guess our patients will get healthier from that.”
“I so love when you appreciate my contribution into the well-being of this hospital,” I mutter.
“I’m delighted to hear that,” Heartless replies, her voice cold like vodka in the morgue at 3 AM when you’re out of cigarettes and hopes for a decent life. “As soon as you get Redheart out of the nuthouse, get her to work and hope for some difficult case to solve. Guess that’ll make her feel better. I’ll cover your ass in case someone asks questions.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply and leave the office before she eats me and tries to lay eggs in my ass. She probably does that to some hapless young nurses.
As soon as I close the door, I nearly bump into Nursery. She was probably standing here, eavesdropping. “So, what are we doing to get Redheart out of the nuthouse?” she asks. “We can either get there at night when everyone’s asleep, or…” She nearly shoves her flank into my face. “I can seduce the guards…”
“Or we can just go and ask them to let us in,” I say. “We work here and we have Heartless’ blessing.”
“But they still won’t let us out with a mental patient,” Nursery replies. “Especially since she may be a little aggressive if we try to drag her out of the ward.”
“I’ll get a sledgehammer,” I mutter. “I don’t know anyone who’d still be aggressive after that.”
“Given how many times it results in celestial discharge, I’m not surprised.” Nursery shrugs, walking towards the stairs. I follow her – after all, walking while thinking makes you get better ideas.
Well, that actually explains why Atom Heart or some of our patients are so dumb. Their brains simply don’t have enough power to let them think and walk at the same time. Hell, Atom Heart even faints when she chews bubblegum.
We finally get to the door of the psych ward. Or rather, a monstrous, metal gate guarded by two quite ripped guys. How Redheart got past them on that fateful day when she went insane, is anyone’s guess; I guess they were just too busy watching that bowler giving birth to a ball.
“Hello,” I say. “We came to visit Redheart.”
The guards say nothing.
“We have Heartless’ permission.”
One of the guards knocks his hoof against the door. A small window in it opens and I see a piece of an eye looking at us, hidden behind glasses as thick as the bottom of the bottle. Oddly fitting given that the psychiatric ward also cures alcoholics.
The door opens. The nurse behind it jumps off the stepladder; she seems shorter than Nursery, although I’m pretty sure it’s because her dark, oily mane lies flat against her head, rather than trying to disguise itself as a rainforest, like in case of my young companion. She looks at us through her glasses and blinks.
“Visitors from the outside!” she exclaims in a voice suggesting that she’s either slightly lignocephalic or she has a long story of stealing patients’ meds for personal use. “The prophecy was true!”
“Faint Heart,” I mutter. “I never know if you’re a patient pretending to be a nurse, or a nurse pretending to be a patient.”
“Knowledge is gold, gold is a microelement, microelements are food,” Faint Heart recites. “Ergo, knowledge is food. Scientia cibus est.”
“Mononeuronis Asynapsis,” I reply. Nursery looks at me unsurely. “One neuron, not connected,” I whisper to her.
“Ah.” Nursery nods. “We came to visit Redheart,” she says to Faint Heart, speaking much slower than it’s necessary. Smooth, Nursery. Now she’ll know we think she’s dense.
Dunno, how about the others, but I’d rather keep at least neutral relations with personnel of other wards. Like, there are no wilder parties than those organised by the cock docs and the stream team… I mean, urology department. Also, one day I may need something from them.
The psych ward is… difficult. I know only four ponies here: Faint Heart, two psychiatrists: Dr. Cashew Nuts and Dr. Conkers, and Pinkie Elephant, also known as “the other Pinkie”. She does nothing but telling drunks that they need to stop drinking. The staff changes quite often; I guess they occasionally give their clothes to some patients to see if anyone can tell the difference.
All of them are… not stable, I’d say. And that doesn’t even cover all those large, muscular guys who are needed to contain the crazier patients.
“The powers that be state that Redheart is not to be visited today!” Faint Heart exclaims dramatically. “Try during the full moon.”
“Nurse Heartless told us to come here,” I say, trotting forward. I’m gonna step on this little shit if she doesn’t move out of the way.
“The Vampire Queen has no power here!” Faint Heart chuckles madly.
I sigh. “Stop wasting my time and VBA or a VBT is gonna happen to you.”
Faint Heart opens her mouth to say something, but then I see a blue unicorn with a grey mane and a brown, balding pegasus – doctors Nuts and Conkers – who are walking towards us and talking.
“Imagine that, my friend,” Dr. Nuts says. “I’ve had this most interesting patient. We were drinking tea while conversing about the recent sport events and I thought him to be in perfect mental health.”
“That’s indeed fascinating, my friend,” Dr. Conkers replies. “A patient in perfect mental health is indeed a rare occurrence.”
“Oh, his health was far from good, I’m afraid.” Dr. Nuts gives out a good-natured chuckle. “You see, my friend, at some point he ate the teacup, leaving only a handle.”
“Well, now that’s atypical.” Dr. Conkers nods. “Everyone knows that the handle is the best part.”
I clear my throat. “Excuse me,” I say. “We need to find Nurse Redheart. Do you know where she is?”
“Redheart?” Dr. Conkers asks. “Excuse me, but I have no memory of such a pony, dear outside creature.”
“I do recall her,” Nuts says. “She’s that one who doesn’t want to leave. A rather peculiar case. She took the padded cell number three for some reason. And I really liked that cell.”
Conkers opens his mouth to ramble some more, but I don’t listen to him. I already have all the information I needed, so I pull Nursery away from Faint Heart and we walk deeper into the ward.
It’s a truly interesting place. No wonder everyone goes nuts here. One of the patients barks at us, but a quick “good girl” calms her down. Two guys are arguing about something loudly.
“What’s going on?” I ask another guy, who’s sitting at the table and drawing something.
“Those two are crazy,” he says. “Each of them thinks he’s King Sombra. That leads to rather awkward situations whenever they meet.”
“Charming,” I mutter.
“Yeah.” The guy nods. “Especially since everyone knows that I’m King Sombra.”
“We won’t disturb your highness, then,” I say. “Come, Nursery. His highness is probably busy planning some new staircases.”
“Of course.” Nursery trots behind me, but she quickly bumps into some pink mare. “Watch out!” she cries. “Who do you think you are? Nightmare Moon?”
“I’m a doctor, actually,” the mare replies.
“Actual one?” Nursery asks, looking at the mare as if she was some wonky wacko wanting wicked pills.
“Actually, yes.” The mare stares at Nursery coldly. “My name’s Pinkie Elephant.”
“Pinkie Pie?” Nursery asks.
Pinkie Elephant rolls her eyes. “Never heard that one before,” she deadpans. “The other one. Pinkie Elephant. AA therapist.”
“AA therapist?” Nursery nods. “So, like, not a real doctor? What exactly do you do?”
“Right now, I’m going to have a fucking drink.” Pinkie Elephant sighs and walks away.
“Your lack of social skills will get us killed one day,” I mutter. “Do you also call yourself a fucking midget when you look at yourself in the mirror?”
“Whenever I can’t see myself in it,” Nursery replies. “Though that’s technically inaccurate, because I’m slightly taller than–”
“Yeah, sure,” I mutter. “Let’s find Redheart before Faint Heart locks us here shouting, ‘one of us! One of us!’.”
Nursery shudders. “Yeah, we’d better hurry.” She rushes towards the nearby door. It has no handle, but that’s not a problem for us – I always keep a spare handle under my hat, in case of a handle emergency. It’s great for calming down aggressive patients – the only downside is that the neurosurgeons look at you funny.
We open the first door. There’s some creepily skinny mare there, wrapped in a straitjacket and smelling of products of her metabolism.
“Hello,” she says, baring her teeth. I’m pretty sure she’d sharpened them herself. “Did you come for dinner?” She licks her lips. “I’m gonna have the small one first.”
“I’m sorry, we’re not hungry.” I slam the door shut and take the handle away. “Focus, Nursery. Door number three, not seven.”
“You should’ve looked instead of jamming your handle in every hole you can find,” Nursery replies, trotting to the door number three. “Here. Redheart’s probably inside. Let’s see what’s up.”
We open the door to see a silhouette hidden in dim light. She’s staring at the wall, covered with simple drawings on paper. They cover various topics: from everyday life at the hospital, to bloody accidents and dicks. I take a look at the closest one, depicting an aftermath of a train ramming into a carriage full of foals. Nursery was right. Her impressionist stuff is better.
“Hello, Redheart,” I say. She turns to me, but half of her face is still hidden in the shadow. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that somewhere before.
“Finally,” Redheart mutters. “I was getting bored.”
“Then leave this room and come back to us,” I say. “Nursery had a great idea of replacing you with Atom Heart and the whole ER looks like a radioactive shithouse on fire.”
“I said that I was bored, not that I wanted to leave,” Redheart replies. “Also, that’s a principle. I can’t go back now.”
“What principle?” I ask. “Redheart, you don’t have a dick, you don’t have to worry about its size, okay? Stop fucking with us and get out of this room before all those drawings fall off the wall and suffocate you.”
“I’m not getting out,” Redheart replies. “Here, I have nothing to worry about.”
“But we get a lot of worries when you’re not with us,” Nursery says. “Like, seriously, this hospital will soon collapse without you.” I swear, her sclera turned black and flames shot out behind her. “The wards shall be overrun with insane patients, DPSs, and DRTs! Eventually everyone will get transferred to the fourth floor and there will be no one to bag and tag them!”
“Our hospital only has three floors,” I mutter before I remember that the fourth floor is the mysterious place where ponies go when they die. “Also, what the hell was that?”
“That’s how Faint Heart behaves when she’s drunk.” Nursery smiles sheepishly. “But the truth is, Redheart, that you basically said ‘amyoyo’ and left.”
Amyoyo? “Alright, motherfucker, you’re on your own”? Huh. Nursery is learning from us. Too bad she’s learning all the wrong things.
“Well…” Redheart hides her face in her hooves. “I’m not sure if I can leave this place.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve been waiting for an occasion to clobber Faint Heart since the medical school,” Nursery replies.
“If this was so easy, I’d do that myself.” Redheart rolls her eyes. “The thing is, I’m afraid of what’s outside.”
“Our hospital is not that scary,” I mutter. “Well, don’t go to the kitchen, but generally it’s a fun place.”
Redheart backpedals. “B-but…”
“Oh, come on!” I trot to Redheart and grab her. “Nursery, clear the way. We’re coming!” I lift Redheart effortlessly—years of carrying various smelly fatasses in the ER gave me quite a lot of strength—and trot out of her cell.
“Where are you carrying me?” Redheart asks weakly.
“Somewhere,” I reply. “I don’t know. It’s New Year’s Eve, all the raving lunatics in this town are waiting to get themselves injured and end up in the ER!”
“I have a feeling that I’m being kidnapped,” Redheart mutters, looking at the three Sombras who are currently playing something between Monopoly and jenga. “Anyone help me?”
We’re almost at the door, when Nuts and Conkers run to us, their hoofsteps ringing on the floor.. “What’s going on here?” Nuts asks.
“Aggressive form of therapy,” I reply. “I call it ‘cellectomy’.”
“What?” Conkers tilts his head.
“I cut her cell off,” I reply. “Experimental therapy. Not approved by anyone.”
Nuts raises his hoof. “I have several questions…”
Redheart thrashes in my grip. “Wait, experiments require patient’s consent, right?”
I ignore her, looking in the eyes of the two doctors. “I’ll list you as a co-author.”
“Okay, I’m fine with it.” Nuts turns to Conkers. “Wouldn’t it be nice to move science forward again, my friend?”
“But of course, my friend,” Conkers replies. “Although it’s a pity that I will not have a chance to use that ice pick I’ve been sharpening with her in mind.”
“I do consent to that experimental therapy,” Redheart says quickly. “Lead the way, Sweetheart. Quick!”
I nod and carry her out of the ward. As soon as the metal door close behind us, I put her on the floor. Shit. I’m pretty sure she got thinner and paler than she used to be. I’ll have to invite her over for dinner. Like, a few times.
Before I’m able to tell that to Redheart, I notice a pair of heads peeking from behind the corner. They retreat immediately, but it’s too late – I already recognised those violet eyes.
I let out a sigh. “Tenderheart, Coldheart, come here. I know it’s you.”
Two nurses walk from behind the corner. “Hello.” Tenderheart, the blue one, takes a quick glance at Redheart. “What are you up to?”
“Checking who regularly sneaks out to our trick-cyclists to have a cig.” I give Tenderheart a disapproving look which makes her blush.
You see, some wiseass hospital’s administration figured out that being in a nuthouse is already stressful for the patients without them having to give up bad habits. Thus, psych ward is the only place where they can smoke openly. Well, at least until they’re caught by health inspectors.
“We totally wasn’t gonna do that,” Tenderheart says quickly while Coldheart nods. Coldheart is a mare of a few words, but when she does speak, she is usually honest. Let’s see…
“Coldheart, were you going to smoke?” I ask.
Coldheart looks to the left and to the right, sweating slightly. “M-maybe…” she finally utters.
“Of course,” I say. “Be happy that we are on a mission from Heartless. Also, do you play poker, Coldheart?”
“No.”
“Good. With your face, you’d suck at it.” I turn to Redheart. “Anyway, are you ready to welcome the new year in the ER?”
“Maybe,” Redheart replies.
“I don’t know.” Tenderheart shrugs and looks at Coldheart.
“We’re hungover as feck,” Coldheart says.
“Good,” I say. “You and our patients will have something in common. Intoxication.”
“First, we have to look like professional nurses,” Nursery says as we go downstairs to the ER. “No offence, but you all look like a bunch of middle-aged mares way past your prime…”
“At least I don’t have zits on my ass,” I mutter. “Also, we’re not middle-aged, we’re experienced. Hell, I probably had sex before you were born…”
“Enough, Sweetheart,” Redheart says. “Save that story for when we’re really bored and have nothing else to do.” She reaches the bottom of the stairs and takes a look at the ER. “What the fuck?”
Atom Heart sees us and stops dead in her tracks. “I have cancer,” she says, showing us a large crayfish holding her hoof. “Well, it sounds funnier in ancient Minotaurian…”
“Okay, who let her here?” Redheart turns to us.
“You, kinda.” Nursery smiles. “We had no one to get the ER together so we had to save ourselves.”
“Oh, come on…” Redheart turns around, looking at the ward. Hell, she kinda looks like a general taking one final look at the battlefield. “Atom Heart, go back to your dungeon and I don’t want to see you here. Where did you even get that crayfish?”
Well, that’s the Redheart I love to hate.
“One patient nearly drowned, I think.” Atom Heart replies. “He had quite a few of various aquatic motherfuckers on his body.”
“Nursery, catch the remaining ones and get rid of them,” Redheart commands. “Sweetheart, check if the patient is alive, because I don’t trust Atom Heart with that. Coldheart, Tenderheart, get yourselves together. We have the whole night before us.”
Not even an hour later, Atom Heart is tending to her X-ray machine again, crayfish are back in the lake, and the patient is in the ward, sleeping his near-drowning off. We get our best hats, prepare fresh equipment, put some small decorations in the corners of the emergency rooms and wait for the inevitable. After all, New Year’s Eve without at least one mare with a bottle of champagne in her privates is not New Year’s Eve.
Except, so far no one appeared. Strange. As if suddenly everyone took our PSAs seriously and they’re playing safe, drinking responsibly and whatnot. I can already see Redheart losing her energy; we didn’t get her out of the nuthouse to play cards, for fuck’s sake!
“Four of a kind,” Nursery says, putting her cards on the table. “Since Coldheart had nothing, she’ll tell us the most inappropriate thing she did this year.”
Coldheart blushes. “Remember that dead patient with a boner?”
“I’m not sure if I want to hear that story…” Redheart winces. “Remember that I’m kinda the patient here. How is that supposed to help my poor mind?”
“Come on, I only touched it,” Coldheart replies. “Tenderheart dared me to.”
“What?” Tenderheart raises her eyebrows. “I only said that I’d want to meet this guy when he was alive. Never said anything about touching him.”
“Hey, I only touched his, umm…” Coldheart turns to Tenderheart. “You had an affair with a patient!”
“He was alive,” Tenderheart replies. “Besides, I’m pretty sure every single of us had an affair with a patient.”
“Maybe.” Redheart shrugs. “Well, not really.”
I think of my past experiences. As I mentioned earlier, I have needs and my husband is on the road most of the time. “Not a patient. His son.” I grin at Coldheart. “Oh, and he was pretty much alive last time I touched his bits.”
“From time to time,” Tenderheart says. “I’m trying not to do that, but it happened before.” She smiles sheepishly. “A lot.”
“Normal ponies don’t seem to be interested in me.” Nursery sighs. “I only attract creeps and I’m not gay enough for Allie Way.”
“I still wonder how you two…” Coldheart puts her hooves together, waving them in a definitely sexual motion.
“Oh, shut up,” Nursery mutters. “You touched a dead guy’s boner.”
“I’m never gonna live it down, huh?” Coldheart drops on her seat, but before anyone can say something about her adventures, we hear some noise coming from the door.
“Finally,” I mutter, getting up. “Let’s go, Redheart. Wonder what dumb thing they did this year.”
We get out of the room to take a look. Almost immediately, a magic beam flies between us, leaving a scorched mark on the wall. We look at each other. This seems like some idiot firing spells blindly, which probably means we need to get a shrink. And I don’t feel like going to Nuts and Conkers again. I guess they’re currently drinking disinfectant with Faint Heart or something.
“I’m sorry!” the voice exclaims, followed by another spell. “I can’t control it!”
“Watch out!” another voice calls just before a magic beam ricochets off the wall and breaks the window at the end of the corridor. As soon as it disappears, we rush to the place it came from to see what’s the situation.
“Nursery, get a welding helmet or something!” Redheart shouts.
I poke my head from behind the corner to see if the situation is clear. No spell hits me; finally I can sneak along the wall to see the source of the whole commotion.
Oh, of course. It’s those two freeloaders who live in Twilight Sparkle’s palace. The Great and Powerful Trixie the magician and not so great and powerful Starlight Glimmer who, if the rumours are true, comes from Bumfuck, Nowhere, and came here to serve as Her Majesty’s Official Bed Warmer.
“Good evening,” Trixie says, looking at Starlight as if she was about to explode. Which, I suppose, isn’t far from the truth. “We have a problem.”
“Really?” I ask. Of course they have a problem. They didn’t come here to enjoy our company, I guess.
“Well…” Starlight suddenly sniffs as if she was about to sneeze. Seeing that, Trixie drops on the ground. Redheart immediately follows here.
A second later, I know why. As soon as Starlight sneezes, her horn fires a spell that sings my mane and blows another hole in the wall – right next to Nursery, who slowly walks towards us, carrying a piece of lead, used to shield the X-ray machine from its operator. I’m pretty sure Atom Heart doesn’t use them anyway.
Trixie gets up, assessing the damage, and turns to me. “You see, Twilight Sparkle left Trixie in charge of the castle before going to the Crystal Empire and–”
“No, she left me in charge of the castle!” Starlight exclaims, turning to Trixie, who immediately drops on the ground in panic.
“Don’t aim at Trixie, you idiot!” Trixie exclaims. “Anyway, just when Trixie was preparing fireworks before the New Year’s Eve, it turned out that Starlight caught–”
“– horn flu,” Redheart says. “I recognise the symptoms.”
“Yeah, except she’s not a foal between two and five years old,” I say, turning to Starlight. “You never had it as a filly?”
“No, I think not,” Starlight replies. “Must’ve been all those little shi– kids at the pageant.”
“One of them blew his nose in Trixie’s tail,” Trixie mutters. “Disgusting little brats.”
Do tell. Right after the Hearth’s Warming Eve it turned out that my daughter ate too much and had a really bad case of stomach flu. You can guess the rest.
Starlight raises her hoof and inhales sharply. I quickly drop on the floor next to Trixie and Redheart. This time, the magic blast hits the ceiling, showering us with plaster.
Redheart gets up first. “Are you allergic to any antibiotics?”
Typical Redheart. The patient can blow us up so hard that pieces of my ass will be found in Vanhoover and she asks her about allergies as if she was a foal who can, at best, produce a few sparks with each sneeze.
“I don’t know,” Starlight replies. “And I’m not sure if I was vaccinated against hepatitis.”
“She burned her family doctor’s office down,” Trixie whispers. It’s loud enough a whisper for the whole hospital to hear; I guess that’s how she rolls.
“Shut up,” Starlight says.
Nursery joins us, still shielding herself with the lead brick. “So, do we give her a shot and hope it works?” she asks. “Normally, I’d ask for reasonable use of intravenous antibiotics, but if she hits the ceiling one more time, the microbiology lab will fall on our heads.”
“Are you implying we’re trigger-happy with antibiotics?” I ask. “Besides, the bacteria that cause horn flu are dumb and never learned how to develop resistance. One shot and she’ll get better.”
Starlight gulps. “What do you mean by a shot?”
“An injection, of course,” I reply.
I see Starlight’s eyes widen. For a moment, I instinctively want to drop on the ground, but it doesn’t seem like she’s going to sneeze anytime soon.
“Is there any other way?” she asks. “I’m scared of injections.”
Redheart shoots me a look which I know all too well. It means, “we’re in trouble and there’s no way we can explain this to our bosses”. Just great. I totally needed yet another disciplinary action.
“So, is there any other way?” Trixie asks why Starlight tries to stifle a sneeze.
“We can give her laxatives,” I say before I’m able to stop myself. “Then she’ll be afraid to cough.”
“Nah, that’d make things even worse,” Nursery smirks. “Now at least we’re safe when we stand behind her and–”
Starlight Glimmer coughs. A magic bolt the size of my leg hits the lead plate Nursery is holding in front of her and makes a dent in it, ricocheting and burning her hat before hitting the ceiling.
“Enough of this property damage,” Redheart says. “Nursery, lead her to the containment cell. Then, we’ll think what to do.”
“Why me?” Nursery asks, looking at the charred remains of her hat.
“You’re the smallest target,” Redheart replies.
“Yeah.” I turn towards our room. “Tenderheart! Coldheart! Come here! We have a situation.”
“Yeah, come here you cowards!” Trixie yells. I’m pretty sure that before Starlight decided to become a loose magical cannon, the two already downed their first drinks.
After a while, Tenderheart and Coldheart join us while Starlight enters the containment cell. That’s a brand new addition to our hospital. When the experts from Canterlot heard that we want to spend half of the hospital’s annual budget for the room with silver-padded walls, they sent us a long, elaborate letter, politely suggesting us to get an enema because we’re apparently full of shit. Only after we explained that, despite most of the town being earth ponies, we somehow have the highest rate of magic-related fuck-ups in the whole country, they agreed to build this cell.
Money well spent. As soon as Starlight gets inside, she sneezes. Her magic hits the wall, dispersing on it. We close the silver door with a thick glass window and, together with Coldheart, Tenderheart, and Trixie gather in the control room next to the cell.
Redheart turns on the microphone. “Starlight, can you hear us?”
“Yeah.” Starlight coughs. The spell blinds us for a second; I’d say it’s much better than, for example, getting beheaded by it. “I have a bit of claustrophobia, but I’ll manage. Why do you even need such a cell?”
“For such cases as yours,” Redheart replies. “Bad cases of horn flu, horn cancer, magic-related insanity–”
“It’s not called that anymore,” Nursery says. “It was too offensive, so now the proper name is Magic-related Histrionic Personality Disorder.”
Tenderheart nods. “Yeah. Or other strong cases of motherfuckers.”
I look at her, raising my eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“Magical Twitches, Hiccups, Rustles, Fulminations, Convulsions, Kicking, Rockets, and Spilling.” Tenderheart shrugs. “Motherfuckers for short.”
“Kids and their fancy acronyms,” I mutter, turning to Trixie. “The cell is also used to contain ponies possessed by magical artifacts.”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie feels offended by this.” Trixie raises her head dramatically.
Nursery stands straight, trying to look taller than she is. “Maybe because the proper name is Magical Object-related Cerebral Dysfunction, which further divides into–”
“Who cares,” Redheart says. “Now, we have to think what to do with her. She’s afraid of needles and since she shoots death rays anytime she sneezes–”
“We can give her a ‘Good Patient’ sticker.” Tenderheart shrugs. “It worked with Vinyl.”
“We can flood the whole place with antibiotics.” Coldheart says. “Or gas her with them.”
“And watch as all the bacteria normally living in her body develop resistance,” I reply. “And this may kill her too.”
“How about we get one of those dart guns vets use?” I say. “We can shoot her from the safe distance.”
Redheart shakes her head. “Bad idea. The antibiotic has to be injected intravenously and with those you can only hit the muscles.”
“”Oh, it’s not a problem.” I smirk. “We’ll shoot her full of some anesthetic and then we can do whatever we want with her.”
“Is it how you found your husband?” Coldheart asks. Seriously, her parents chose a really good name. Time to counter that with a proper, reasonable response.
“Shut up, Coldheart, you touched a dead guy’s dick,” I reply.
“How was it?” Trixie asks.
Before Coldheart can reply, Starlight clears her throat. “Nurse? You know that the microphone is still on, right?”
“Oh hell,” Redheart mutters, grabbing the microphone. “Ms. Glimmer? Do you agree to any of our propositions or do you want to try a normal injection?”
Typical Redheart. Always about getting the patient’s consent.
“I’m not sure I can,” Starlight replies. Another magic blast from her horn causes the whole room to shake. “Also, this room creeps me out. I want out.”
“You can’t wander around the hospital like that,” I say. “Come on, we’ll give you some antibiotics and your horn will get better.”
“Okay, we don’t have all night,” Redheart says. “Nursery, Sweetheart, go inside and try to give her an injection.”
“Why me?” I ask. In a chorus with Nursery, it seems.
“You’ll be able to grab her while Nursery is hardest to hit,” Redheart replies, grabbing the microphone. “Ms. Glimmer, try to stand still and don’t panic. Try not to sneeze and don’t aim your horn at anyone.”
“Okay,” Starlight replies.
Nursery goes to another treatment room and brings back a syringe. I crack my hooves; I’m pretty strong and if I was completely insane, I’d probably be a nurse in the nuthouse. But since I’m normal, I’m here, perfect for any unexpected ER situations.
Tenderheart opens the door for us and quickly hides behind it. Before walking into the containment room, I take a deep breath. Time to fix this once and for all.
“Are you sure you want to go there?” Nursery asks. “I’m fine, but you have a kid or something.”
“My daughter rarely sees me anyway,” I reply. “Guess she forgot how I look like. Okay, Ms. Glimmer, we’re coming.”
The door closes behind us. Starlight Glimmer stands in the corner of the room, looking at the syringe unsurely and trying to hide behind something. Tough chance, given that there’s nothing in the cell.
“I may sneeze soon,” she says. “You’d better hurry.”
“Okay!” Nursery smiles in the way only overly enthusiastic interns can smile. She lifts the syringe and approaches Starlight. “Stand still, it’ll only hurt for a moment…”
“No!” Starlight jumps into the air like a cat just before the needle touches her. For a moment, we look around, trying to see where she is. As I said, there are really no places to hide in this cell.
“Did she teleport?” Nursery asks.
“Unlikely.” I shrug. “She has a horn flu, after all. She didn’t exit through the door, unless…” I look up. There she is, hanging from the ventilation grating and looking at us unsurely. Of course. The wiseasses from Canterlot insisted that the cell needs to be ventilated, so there’s a grating on the ceiling – pretty much the only thing you can grab here.
“Come down here!” I shout. “Or I’ll throw Nursery to you.”
“Don’t you dare!” Nursery exclaims. “You can’t throw me like that.”
“I can,” I reply. “Back in the medical school, I won a dwarf tossing contest. While drunk.”
“I’d like to remind you that I’m too tall to fit the definition, you ignorant fatass,” Nursery replies.
“Huh?” I look down at her. “So, laughing at short ponies is not fine but laughing at fat ponies is okay? Besides, I’m not fat. Well-built, maybe, but–”
“Watch out!” Nursery shouts. Too late. The explosion blinds me, throwing me at the wall. For a moment, I see a lot of silver, but then the lights go off.
I wake up moments later. At first, I feel lucky since I landed on something soft, but then I realise it was Nursery. She’s alive, judging from the groans. The syringe is also intact, lying on the floor in front of me.
I look at my flank, checking if all my body parts are in the right places. Seems that we didn’t get a direct hit, just the shockwave. Starlight wasn’t that lucky; she fell off the ventilation grating and is currently lying on the floor with charred fur and messy mane, groaning and trying to get up.
Quickly, I grab the syringe and stab her with the needle. She twitches and turns towards me as if she wanted to attack me, but then she lets out only a small whimper before calming down.
“Better?” I ask.
“I think I broke something,” she replies.
“Me too,” Nursery mutters. “You do have a fat ass, Sweetheart.”
“Oh, shut up,” I reply, opening the door. “Two stretchers, please!” I shout.
As Tenderheart and Coldheart wheel Nursery and Starlight away, I take a look at the clock on the wall. It’s just five minutes before midnight.
“Redheart!” I exclaim. “It’s almost new year!”
“Wait, a minute, I’m trying to tell Trixie that filling a complaint is not the way to go,” Redheart replies. “After all, we healed her friend, right?”
A complaint? Another one? Great way to start a new year. I kinda want to go to Trixie and smack her so she has more to complain about, but then I see the door of the hospital opening and somepony running to us.
“Ms. Bon Bon?” I ask. “What happened? Did Lyra stuff her ass full of apples again?”
“No, it’s not that,” Bon Bon replies. “I just wanted to say that someone left a cart full of fireworks in front of the hospital.”
“Oh, it’s mine,” Trixie says. “Trixie will better get it back to the palace before someone steals it or something.”
“Too late.” Bon Bon looks back. “Berry Punch’s kid just lit it on fire.”
Redheart raises her eyebrows. “Oh, fu–”
Her voice drowns in the explosion that shakes all the windows in the hospital. The fireworks fly up into the sky, filling it with multi-coloured flowers, sparks, and explosions. Some even make funny shapes. Not even a minute later, the first pegasus crash lands in our hospital. Of course, it’s Cloud Kicker; she’s so high on meds Atom Heart gave her that she doesn’t even notice that her tail is on fire.
I sigh. “Happy New Year, Redheart.”
“Happy New Year, Sweetheart,” Redheart replies, grabbing a fire extinguisher.