Here comes the Potato Mare!
Flu season. I’ve been waiting for it for the whole year.
During the flu season, the other nurses’ attitude towards me changes. It’s no longer “Nursery, the patient just threw up on the floor. Could you clean it for me, please?”, “Nursery, this kid needs a diaper change. Can you do that?”, or “Nursery, this patient just came back from Zebrica, he’s coughing, and Sweetheart is too fat to fit into a hazmat suit. Can you sit with him and see if he starts bleeding?” Now, it’s “Nursery Rhyme, here are your needles and syringes, go downstairs and vaccinate the ponies.” Yay! I so love giving injections!
For some reason, the patients don’t like when I vaccinate them. They usually ask me to call Nurse Redheart or Nurse Sweetheart. One filly said that she needs an adult. I am an adult, Celestiadammit!
I guess it’s, as Dr. Stable says, a matter of appearance. Nurse Redheart definitely looks professional. I want to be like her, really. Nurse Sweetheart, on the other hoof, is slightly pudgy, so ponies automatically assume that she’s nice and warm. It doesn’t matter that she has a bedside manner of an average mortician. Me? It’s not my fault that I got my cutie mark at the age of three and began training earlier than most ponies. As a result, I’m a nineteen-year-old intern, who looks like she was ten. But anyway, here I am, in the treatment room, playing with syringes.
Some patients are problematic. Foals, especially. Sometimes both parents, granny, uncle, and two random ponies from the corridor have to hold the foal so I can give them a flu shot. Well, at least a foal is easier than a mouse. Foals rarely try to bite your hoof, and I’ve never met a foal who’d try to pee on me.
Those three pegasi a few months ago also were problematic. After we untied one of them and put the second’s discs back in her spine, they didn’t even thank us. Also, such cases aren’t even the weirdest I have to deal with. You know, after spending a few night shifts with Redheart, I saw everything. I even agreed with Redheart that every patient is an idiot until proven otherwise.
I just gave the foal the “Brave Patient” sticker and sat on my chair to take a rest, when another patient opens the door. A grey stallion with blonde mane. Let’s see if he’s afraid of needles.
“Good morning,” I say. “I guess you came to get a flu shot?”
He smirks. “I fucked a jar of jelly.”
Here we go. Sometimes you just have to curl into a ball and cry. Or laugh. Or both. I manage not to do any of that. I even make a professional expression. “And...?”
He shows me a jar of jelly. I have no idea where he hid it and I’d rather not know. “She’s pregnant,” he says.
“Cun– I mean, maternity ward is on the second floor,” I reply quickly. “Just next to the psychiatric ward. It’s easy to confuse those...”
“Oh, I must’ve gotten lost,” the stallion says and hides the jar... somewhere. “Thank you and goodbye.” He leaves the treatment room.
I sigh with relief, smacking my head against my desk. What is wrong with these ponies? And I’m supposed to help them? Sweet Celestia...
The door opens. I raise my head and smile, seeing the white unicorn in front of me. Finally, somepony reasonable. Element of Generosity, no less. Definitely not somepony who had coitus with a jar of jelly.
Rarity opens her mouth to say something, but is interrupted by a rather nasty attack of coughing. I wait for her to stop, then I say, “I’m sorry, but if you’re sick, you can’t get vaccinated...”
Rarity coughs again. “I’m sorry, I hoped that you’d help me with that, darling...”
“Well, I’m not a doctor, so–”
“The queue here was shorter,” Rarity interrupts me before coughing again. “Can you, please, help me? I have an important fashion show and I simply can’t be sick just now!”
I remind myself of a certain stunt Tenderheart pulled on one of our frequent flyers. You see, I asked Redheart what “frequent flyer” meant and she told me that it was a patient who visits the hospital quite often for no reason whatsoever. I think it’d be best to teach Rarity how to behave.
“Go behind that curtain,” I say, opening a drawer and grabbing the largest thermometer I could find. There’s one advantage of being short: before Rarity turns to me to protest, I’m already on her other side, with the thermometer in my hooves. She didn’t see me coming.
“Wait for five minutes,” I tell her when the thermometer is planted firmly where Celestia doesn’t shine. “Also, try not to squeeze it. I’m not good at pulling the shards of broken glass from that place.”
Rarity gives out an affirmative grunt and hides behind the curtain. I sigh and sit on my chair, hoping that the next patient will be finally somepony who just needs a flu shot.
Vain hope. The door burst open and a blue unicorn comes in. I think I know her – she’s a watchmaker or a locksmith. Or both. Haven’t seen her in a while – she went to Las Pegasus or something like that. I guess it didn’t end well, judging by a long cut on her forehead.
“Trauma ward is on the other side of the corridor,” I say, trying to sound as professional as Nurse Redheart. Too bad, my voice is a bit too high-pitched. Maybe I should start smoking? Or better not – I’m already banned from drinking coffee since, according to Dr. Stable, I start to behave like a squirrel on meth.
“Listen, kid, I just came back from Prance, had to land an airship with one working engine, had a close meeting with the rudder wheel, and I have to go to Las Pegasus as soon as possible. Also, mafia is on my ass. Just give me some painkiller and I’m outta here,” she replies.
Oh yeah. And here I am, all out of thermometers. “Mafia?” I ask in a delicate tone. “Following you?”
“Yes, mafia. I need to give them some old sword, if that’s information you need to give me a painkiller,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
Her hoof twitches. I consider hiding somewhere – she may strangle me or something. “Minuette R. Turner,” she says finally.
“What does ‘R’ stands for?” I ask, not only out of curiosity, but also because I want to check how sound she is mentally. “Also, you should go to the second floor. They’ll help you. And don’t worry about Screw Loose, she’s vaccinated against rabies.”
“‘R’ stands for ‘not your fucking business,” Minuette replies, groaning. She opens her mouth to add something, but then Rarity emerges from behind the curtain. She walks rather funny.
“Excuse me, darling,” Rarity says, blushing. “How much longer will I have to hold this thing there? I’m getting uncomfortable.”
“Oh, sorry...” I say, walking to her and removing the thermometer out of her butt. Seeing this, Minuette blushes and runs away from the treatment room. Good riddance. I look at the thermometer. “Ms. Rarity, you should go back home and lie down in bed. That’s the only way.”
“What?” Rarity asks. “No antibiotics?”
“It’s a viral infection,” I reply, trying my best not to sound sarcastic. Before I started to work here it was easy, but now Redheart rubs off on me. “Antibiotics kill bacteria.”
“But there must be a way–”
“Oh, there is one...” I open a drawer and take the biggest needle I can find. When I look back at Rarity, her pupils are smaller than its diameter.
“I... I think I already feel better,” Rarity says, backpedalling towards the door. “See you, darling.”
Finally. I can focus on ponies who came here with their foals and couldn’t get to my office because of some insane unicorns skipping the queue. I get my needles, syringes, and packages with the vaccine. Flu shot, flu shot, flu shot, a scared kid, dodging the teeth, flu shot, flu shot, even more scared kid, cleaning the floor, flu shot, flu shot, scared and aggressive kid, dodging the hoof, right hook, flu shot, stitches for the mother, flu shot, flu shot, Nurse Redheart.
“Hello,” I say. “You came to relieve me?”
She sneezes. “I’m afraid I caught something...” Her voice clearly suggest a runny nose. “Rarity came to me and–” She’s interrupted by a fit of cough.
“Oh, I see,” I say. “She was here too, ended up with ATFO. Maybe you should go home?”
“No, I don’t want to leave you alone...” She coughs again, grabs a thermometer from my desk and puts it in her mouth. “Also, ATFO? You spend too much time with Snowheart.”
“It was Atom Heart, actually,” I reply. “Some FLK came to her when I was with her, wanted RTG because he apparently swallowed a snail. A typical case of ATFO.”
“FLK like Funny Looking Kid?” Redheart asks. “Snips or Snails? Also, you’ll soon speak only in abbreviations...” She takes the thermometer and looks at it unsurely. “Why does it taste like marshmallows?”
“Is there any acronym or abbreviation for ‘You’d rather not know’?” I ask. “If you don’t want to go home, just lie down in the social room till the end of the shift. I already vaccinated, like, half of the town. Nothing strange is going to happen.”
“Okay,” Redheart says, coughing. “In case of emergency, you know where to find me.”
She walks away to the social room while I take a seat behind my desk, waiting for whatever the fate is going to bring. Soon after Redheart leaves, the fate reminds itself about me and the door opens.
A young, purple unicorn walks inside, dragging a blonde-maned filly behind her. The filly clearly is going to be a difficult patient. She resists against getting inside and tries to run away (I notice that she’s walking a bit funny), but the older unicorn levitates her and puts her on the floor in front of me.
“Hello,” the unicorn says. To think about it, I kinda recognise her. Her name is Sparkler or something like that. She recently brought Rarity here with a gem stuck in her... Oh wait, medical secret. “We have a problem.”
“Do you want a flu shot?” I ask, hoping that it’s the case. You see, “we have a problem” is a sentence nopony in a hospital wants to hear. It can mean anything, from a particularly bad cold to a freaky accident involving a spoon, a straw, and a bunch of strange candies.
“I want a flu shot while I am here,” another voice says. I look at the filly, but she only shrugs. Then I see a second filly emerging from behind Sparkler. She’s similar to the first one – same height, same mane, except of her colours – mostly various shades of pink.
“Oh, I forgot that I foalsit them both today,” Sparkler mutters. “Pinchy, why did you sneak here behind us?”
“It’s easy to forget about me,” Pinchy replies with a sigh. “Especially since Dinky is special.”
“I’m not!” the first filly, whose name is apparently Dinky, exclaims. “I talked to the psychologist at school and she said that my IQ is within norm!”
“Lower limit of normal.” Pinchy rolls her eyes. “Can I get that flu shot? My life is filled with suffering anyway.”
“In a minute,” I say, turning to Sparkler. “So, what’s exactly the problem?”
“Dinky is a problem,” Pinchy mutters under her breath.
“Shut up, Pinchy,” Sparkler says. “You see, I asked her to get me something from the cupboard so she stood on the chair...”
“Don’t call me ‘Pinchy’. ‘Berry’ or ‘Ruby’ is okay, but only my mom can call me ‘Pinchy’.”
Sparkler gives the filly a nasty look. “No one gives a damn, Pinchy. Anyway, she slipped off the chair and fell...”
“Did she hit her head?” I ask.
“No, she was always like that,” Berry/Ruby/Pinchy mutters.
Sparkler chooses to ignore her. “She fell... on a potato...”
“And?” My mind gives me terrifying clues, but I’d rather hear the whole story first.
“It, umm... stuck...” Sparkler smirks awkwardly.
“Where?” I ask, looking at Dinky, who makes a painful expression and looks at her rump. Well, here we go again. Bring me Redheart and a corkscrew.
“Well, there...” Sparkler mutters. “I couldn’t get it out with magic. I tried to feed her beans, but it didn’t help.”
“Feed her beans?” I raise my eyebrows. “What for?”
“Because she’s retarded,” Ruby mutters, hiding in the shadows behind Sparkler. Hell, that kid would probably be able to hide in the shadows in the desert at noon. “My foalsitter is retarded, my only friend, who is probably my stepsister, is also retarded, my mother drinks, and in a few years I’ll probably start drinking too... What is wrong with my life?”
“You,” Dinky replies.
“I at least don’t put potatoes in my arse,” Ruby says. “Though, to be honest, that’s your only chance to have a partner who is on your intellectual level.”
“Pinchy!” Sparkler shouts. “I swear, I don’t know where she learned that,” she says to me.
“I still don’t know why feeding a filly beans would help in that, umm... situation,” I say.
“I hoped that the gases would, umm... push it out.”
I smack my head against the desk. “Pinchy is right. What were you thinking?” I ask. “It’s a foal, not a potato cannon!”
“Well, it seemed logical,” Sparkler says, blushing and backpedalling.
“It also seemed logical when my mom hired you,” Pinchy whispers. Why is this kid suddenly right behind me? “Why can’t I have cool foalsitters, like Rumble? He usually plays twister with Flitter and Cloudchaser...”
“I guess Blossomforth doesn’t join them anymore...” I mutter, wondering what kind of twister those two play with him. After all, he’s underaged too.
“No, she doesn’t,” Ruby says. “But he says they are in fact special agents in Princess Celestia’s secret service...”
“And you believe him?” Dinky says, wincing. “He’s dumb.”
“Oh yeah, because you’re totally an expert in being dumb...” Ruby replies.
“Okay, I got it,” I say to Sparkler. “I’ll bring someone here to help us, umm... getting this potato out. I’ll be right back.” I walk out of the office and rush to the social room where Redheart is sleeping on the couch, covered with some colourful blanket one of the patients gave us. I’m pretty sure that patient had vomited on it at least once, but it doesn’t seem to bother my friend.
“Redheart...” I say. “We have a problem.”
“What problem?” Redheart asks, blinking and trying to focus her gaze on me.
“Do you know Sparkler?” I say. “She’s here.”
“What’s up?” Redheart asks. “Did she finally learn that Rarity’s her sister? Nurse Heartless once told me that they were separated at birth, but nopony knows about that.”
Nurse Heartless. A legend of our hospital. She was here before old, fat witches like Nurse Sweetheart were even born. When she started, the only method of anesthesia was a large boulder applied to patient’s head. She greatly influenced the development of modern psychiatry by telling the late Dr. Nutcase that she’d stuff all his ice picks up his ass. And doing that later.
Nurse Heartless had, however, one problem: she kept drinking the rectified spirit used for disinfection. Our boss wanted her to retire because of her drinking problem, but she was unsinkable. At least till she passed away suddenly, allegedly due to methanol poisoning. Sweetheart says that somepony killed her by wiping the “M” from the label on the bottle.
Guess who was hired in Nurse Heartless’ place.
“No, it’s worse,” I reply. “She brought two kids she’s foalsitting with her. Both are walking condoms ads, but for completely different reasons.”
“How old are they?” Redheart sits on the couch and tries to fix her mane.
“About nine. Though one of them seems to read things filly that age shouldn’t read,” I reply.
“Tell her that it’s too late for abortion and too early for euthanasia, unless one of them is seriously ill.” Redheart coughs. “Can I go back to sleep?”
“One of them has a foreign body in her anus. A potato, to be exact.” I sigh. “Also, the foalsitter has cranial rectosis. She fed the filly beans, hoping that the potato would shoot out of her like a cannonball.”
Redheart gives me a blank stare and shares with me a few thoughts about Sparkler and her family. Since she uses a few words I generally try to avoid, I won’t quote them exactly. Let’s just say that apparently Sparkler’s father married his sister who was also a prostitute. At least that’s what I got from what she was saying.
“We need to get that potato out,” Redheart says when she finally calms down. “Lead the way.”
We walk back to the office where Sparkler is giving Dinky panicked looks. Dinky doesn’t seem to care, though she is still standing. Maybe she’s afraid that if she sits, the potato gets pushed further or something like that. Ruby, on the other hoof, is sitting on my chair.
“Hello,” she says. “May I get that flu shot? I’m getting bored.”
“Redheart, can you take a look at Dinky?” I ask. “I have a flu shot to give.” I trot to my desk and get the biggest needle, the one I shown to Rarity earlier. Ruby doesn’t even blink.
Meanwhile, Redheart disappears with Dinky behind the curtain. I prepare the syringe and approach Ruby.
“Not afraid?” I ask her.
“Please.”
I stick a needle in her rump a bit stronger than necessary. She doesn’t even flinch. Geez, talk about creepy kids. No wonder her mother drinks.
I walk to Redheart, who’s standing behind the curtain with a flashlight in her mouth and gazing into the abyss. When she sees me, she coughs and spits the flashlight.
“Are you okay, nurse?” Sparkler asks. “I don’t think you should examine her if you’re sick...”
“Yeah, because if my saliva falls on the potato, it’ll start to grow and soon she’ll have a stem protruding from her butt,” Redheart mutters.
“Really?”
“No.” Redheart puts on the mask. “Nursery, dear, get the flashlight. I’d better not give her my bacteria.”
“It’d be easier to pull it out if it grew from my bum...” Dinky mutters.
“Yeah, but it’d also root itself in your intestines, eating you from the inside,” Redheart says in a sweet voice. I’m pretty sure she’s smiling sadistically under her mask.
“Hey, maybe it’d start affecting her brain?” Ruby asks. “She’d become a pony-potato hybrid and we’d have to shoot her.”
“I’d rather become a superhero!” Dinky exclaims. “Here comes the Potato Mare!”
I hear Ruby’s guffawing from behind the curtain. I’d scold her, but I’m totally not imagining my own funeral just to get rid of the mental image of Dinky as Potato Mare. I bite the flashlight stronger. Redheart is lucky to have a mask...
“Okay,” Redheart says. “I know how it looks like. Luckily, it’s not too deep... Now I wonder how to get it out.”
“I was thinking of a corkscrew,” I say.
“Yeah, and then we’ll have a gastrointestinal perforation to deal with,” Redheart mutters. “We need something that is not sharp.”
“A spoon?” I ask. “Or maybe let’s just give her something to relax muscles and hope she, umm... gets rid of it in a natural way?”
“The beans again? Laxatives generally work too slow... Also, a spoon may get stuck too,” Redheart says. “Rubber gloves and try to fish it out? You have smaller hooves, so...”
“I’d rather not,” I reply. “Hmm, how about asking Dr. Stable? From what I’ve heard, he has a collection of items he got out of ponies’ rectums. He surely knows how to deal with that filly’s ass...”
To be honest, that sounded way less creepy in my head.
“Yeah,” Redheart whispers. “If something goes wrong, they’ll sue him. Go and find him, I’ll stay here and provide entertainment to the rest of the family.”
“Sure thing.” I salute her and walk out of the office. I walk upstairs and immediately I bump into Sweetheart.
“Hello,” I say, trying to sound friendly. Even though my voice generally sounds kinda foalish, it gets really cold whenever Sweetheart is around.
“Good afternoon.” Sweetheart’s voice sounds like she was telling me to go to Tartarus and do some anatomically impossible things with Tirek. “What do you want, kid?”
“Have you seen Dr. Stable?” I ask, my voice suggesting that one day someone will spike the vaseline she uses when she thinks she’s alone in the social room with sulfuric acid.
“He’s in the room 101,” Sweetheart replies, probably thinking about drowning me in a bedpan.
“Thank you very much,” I say, imagining throwing her fat ass down the flight of stairs.
I walk away to the room 101. Indeed, Dr. Stable is there, talking with some elderly patient.
“... and then this guy from Germaney came here and stole my slippers,” the patient says. “What was his name again?”
“Alzheimer,” Dr. Stable replies. “Hello, Nursery. What do you want?”
“We have, umm... a difficult patient,” I say. “FAC, BFH, PFS, ELF, WTF, we need you to CYA.”
He raises his eyebrow. “Come again?”
I stammer at first, but then I remember Sweetheart’s face and deciphering all those F’s in acronyms suddenly gets easier. “Fucking Awkward Client, Brat From Hell, Panicked Foalsitter Syndrome, Evil Little Fu–”
“And you need me to Cover Your Ass, I know,” Dr. Stable says. “Still, I don’t know anything about the patient.”
“Nine years old, potato in the rectum, no other symptoms,” I reply. “Has a foalsitter and a stepsister who is on the best way to become a supervillain.”
“Potato?” Dr. Stable’s patient asks. “When I was nine, I put a watermelon in my arse!”
“Yes, but that was a hundred years ago,” Dr. Stable mutters. “I’ll be right back.”
“Sure, always the young ones,” the old mare says, rolling her eyes. “I’m much more experienced, doctor...”
“I’ll check that later,” Dr. Stable replies, walking with me out of the room. “Geez, what an old hag.” He sighs. “She seduced that old guy from 105. He had a heart attack when they–”
“Thanks for the mental image, doc,” I mutter. “We don’t exactly know what to do about that filly. It’s not something they teach at school...”
“X-ray, anaesthesia, tube into the anus to equalise the pressure as we remove it, anaesthesia, removing it, sigmoidoscopy to see if nothing is damaged. Checking for the complications,” Dr. Stable replies. “It gets really easy after the first hundred of patients.” He smiles seeing my expression. “Ponies here like to experiment.”
“Eww...” I mutter. “I’ve never felt an urge to put anything in my–” Suddenly, I’m interrupted by something that sounds like a shot. I duck in case Sweetheart decided to get rid of me. Dr. Stable ducks too – maybe he thinks that old mare got jealous.
I hear ponies downstairs running somewhere, then everything goes silent. I look at Dr. Stable unsurely.
“Do you think it was some angry patient?” I ask.
“I hope not,” he replies. “Whoever it was, they may need our help...”
We run downstairs. I see the crowd of ponies surrounding my office and Redheart explaining something to them. Ruby stands behind her, her face green. Inside of the room, I can see Dinky smiling sheepishly and Sparkler hiding her face in her hooves.
“What’s going on?” I ask, pushing myself through the crowd.
“The beans worked,” Redheart replies, pointing at the broken window in the room. “Good thing nopony was on the way...”
“I’m gonna throw up...” Ruby mutters. “That was tasteless and remember that my mother once got so drunk that she showed me how I was born...”
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault!” Dinky exclaims. “I just had to...”
“Well, at least the potato isn’t there anymore.” Redheart coughs and looks at the ponies. “Get out. Nothing to see here.”
The crowd slowly dissipates. Ruby also walks away, making sounds like a cat choking on a hairball.
“You’re going to pay for the window,” Redheart says to Sparkler.
“Yeah... Once the mothers of those kids pay me for foalsitting...” Sparkler mutters. “Which won’t happen soon, since Ruby is a little snitch.”
“Next time watch out for the potatoes,” I say. “Also, cucumbers, carrots, bananas...”
“Sure,” Sparkler says. “I’m gonna babyproof the whole house. And watch out anytime I put something anywhere, myself...”
“Good,” I say. “See you later.”
“I hope not.” She walks away, escorting Dinky. Dr. Stable joins them, telling her about possible complications and other stuff.
I sit back in my office. The window is broken, but it’s a warm day, so it doesn’t matter. I can relax for a while; nothing stranger is going to happen today...
Somepony knocks at the door. I lift my head to see Rainbow Dash clutching her stomach and looking at me with pain clearly written in her eyes. She also has a large bruise on the side of her head.
“What happened?” I ask. “Some crash?”
“No,” Rainbow Dash replies. “I ate a potato that tasted funny...”
