With the turntable spinning, Lovejoy gently placed the needle at the edge of the black disc. Soon enough, an orchestra of Buch’s music was projected in the basement. Sighing, he turned to the converted autopsy room where a seemingly aged stallion was strapped down to the very wooden bed that he’s been lying on for months. However, Lovejoy was pleased with the result of the stump of what used to be Trek’s horn. The honey and salt now set in a caramelized, red cap on top of the stump.
By now, what remained of his mane, eyebrows, and even his tail was shaved off for the preparation of the procedure. Trek’s ears and nostrils were at last freed from were at last freed from the surgical tape, however, a thick piece of it was now over his very dry mouth. As for the eyes, those red dried out eyes, they followed the old doctor over to the table next to him.
“Okay Mr. Trek, I think we’re just about ready,” he pulled out a stool up to the improvised surgical table. “Let me do a quick check up before we begin.” Dr. Lovejoy turned to the other low table, “Sterilized tools by flame, plenty of cotton balls and a clean rag the for bleeding, sewing needles, silk thread, scissors, straws for the nose, tons of bandages, melted wax on the stove upstairs, a bit of some anesthetic to prevent you from dying of shock, some alcohol to prevent you from catching something, the sand is over there next to the jars of salt…” He tapped his chin, “But what am I forgetting… Oh! That’s right,” he turned to the lantern with shiny metal bowl overhead, “Almost forgot the light.”
He lit a couple of candles to illuminate a flickering spotlight on the dried victim, “I still need be able to see what I’m doing after all.” The doctor looked around the basement, “Camera’s over there, phonograph’s playing… Welp,” he smiled, “I think we can now begin.”
Taking one of the cotton balls and a bottle of rubbing alcohol into his aura, he used it to rub on the former unicorn’s right abdomen. “Remember when I said that in the original method of mummification that everything was taken out. Well, since I want to make sure that you’re still alive by the time I bury you in the desert, you’ll have the privilege of keeping your lungs and heart intact. As for everything else, however…” He turned to a syringe and picked it up with his magic, “I’m afraid that those have to go.”
First, he aimed the needle at the back of the neck and penetrated it deep underneath the skin and in-between the vertebra of the spine before injecting the painkiller. Trek winced at this for a moment, he whimpered in his gag. He felt an icy feeling that coerced through every nerve in his body until he couldn’t feel anything at all. Once this was done, Lovejoy picked up a scalpel and a rag, angling the sharp tool for a moment like a painter deciding how to place the first stroke on a blank canvas.
Like an experienced painter, he lightly cut into the side. This got a reaction from the gagged pony as his ancient eyes shut tightly and gave a muffled scream as Lovejoy cut deeper. Although the painkiller was effective in it that he couldn’t feel a thing, his own mind knew that he was being hurt, which terrified him beyond physical pain. Once the dark red liquid started to flow, the doctor immediately levitated the rag over as he slowly pulled the scalpel lower. Hidden Trek convulsed in his restraints, but being so weak of lying down for months, his muscles proved no use.
Whipping up the blood, and using a pair of a shiny clamp, he opens the gash a little wider for the old doctor to peer through. “Let’s see… My, this is going to be easier than I thought; it looks like most of your internal organs have shrunk a bit from the diet I had you on. Let’s start with your liver…” Reaching a rubber glove into Trek, he felt around while ignoring from the cries of his victim. “Oh yes, it’s a little smaller than normal, but it’ll fit in those jars perfectly.”
Taking his bloodied hoof out, he uses the scalpel along with a few other tools to try to cut the organ out in one peace. Trek screamed louder in his gag, and when the doctor looked up, he found something surprising, “Tears? Huh, you would think that those would have been dried up too. Equally interesting that you can’t even feel anything... Oh well, let me focus for the moment.” A minute later, he pulled out the blood-soaked liver.
Lovejoy smiled, “There we are!” he declared as he cleaned it up with the rag. He opened one of the mason jars, emptied its contents before placing the liver in and using his magic to return the salt. “You know,” he said as he turned his attention towards the stomach, “I have to admit, this isn’t the first time I performed surgery while the patient wasn’t fully under. I mean, just think of the agony you’re going through right now yet can’t feel the hot pain at the same time. You could just feel the blade slicing away at your insides whole, can’t you?” He paused as Trek balled his eyes out. “Still, this is all rather exciting. The first Equestrian mummy, can you imagine it? Perhaps a couple thousand years give or take; maybe some archaeologists would dig you up and put you into a fancy museum along with the other mummies. You would be studied; parents will have their kids take pictures of you, and then wonder why you look a little off compared to other mummies like not being in a coffin for example.”
Slowly, he removed the stomach and placed it in salt, “I think you will be very unique compared to my other creations. I’ve turned ordinary, happy ponies like yourself into angels, dolls, marionettes, paintings, concrete statues, turned them inside-out, outside-in, put them into a jar, stretched them, twisted them, and reshaped them into wonderful art pieces. Sometimes recreate deaths from books and artworks from all over the world.” He then started to remove a kidney, “But I’ve never mummified anyone alive before. Although it’s taken such a very long time, I’m really looking forward to the result.”
Organ after organ came out of Hidden Trek, but just as the doctor promised, he did leave his lungs and heart untouched. Kidneys and entrails were removed much to the poor pony’s discomfort. Lovejoy then proceeded to stuff the stallion with sand until he looked somewhat as he did before the operation. After sewing him back up, the old doctor said, “Now all I need to do is to wrap you up, so before I go get the wax, are there any final words you like to say to me before you could no longer speak?”
He carefully freed Hidden’s mouth, a dry sob was heard, “Please kill me.” He whimpered, “Kill me now.”
“Now now,” Lovejoy patted his head, “Just a little longer I promise, and then you’ll be free,” he then slapped the tape back on him as he headed up the stairs. On the stove was a huge pot of the hot, milky wax in which the doctor pulled off and rushed downstairs.
Before he took out the bandages, he stuffed straw in each of Trek’s nostrils. Now prepared, the aged unicorn took out the ladle of the scalding hot wax, and poured a layer over the victim’s hind leg. Each time it was applied to his coat, Trek would scream out as it covered him. While this was going on, Lovejoy began to wrap the bandages, with the warm wax now holding in place as he went up the body.
When it came to cover the whole head, the doctor was careful that not a drop of it would go down the straws and quickly wrapping the rest of the head. When that was done, he repeated the process again, trying both legs closer, weaving the bandages together like an oddly shaped basket.
As time went on, the wax cocoon had hardened, thus the old unicorn finally undid the straps before applying the blistered, exposed skin to the wax and bandaging them up. With a third and final layer, Lovejoy put a hoof over the straws that still stuck out, being pleased that he’s still breathing.
With a wide smile, he photographed his living mummy and turned the music off.
“Now there’s only one last thing to do,” he then teleported himself and Hidden Trek out of the basement and into the night. Lovejoy could still see the shadow of the village in the moonlight, but his attention was toward elsewhere. Picking up the body, he began trotting over to the place where Lilly Garden and Finishing Line were buried.
At the foot of an arched rock, the doctor found his shovel waiting for him. Its metallic plat was still in the soil right next to the carved names in the side of the massive red rock. Placing the body down, he set to work in digging out a shallow grave for him.
“Now then,” he asked himself as he loosens the soil, “What to do with the Line family?”