Jack-In-The-Box

He woke up on a bed. A lovely, warm, comfy bed. So soft, so cosy, not a single mark on the pristine sheets and not a tear in the mattress. At least, that was the picture he built from the information his hind parts were telling him. He couldn't actually see the mattress. Because of the sheets, you see.

Now, why could that be? Not a single clean piece of fabric existed in the city. He certainly didn't have time for washing, and all the water he had was either salty and lumpity-full of fish, or clean and drinkable. His desalinator had broke down a week ago, and he had been subsisting on Old Harbinger and the occasional thermos of coffee ever since.

A bed. White walls. The smell of clean. Short ceilings. Hospital.

Hospital!

No. Hospital was bad. Very bad. Hello, Steinman! Come to visit me? There's someone at the window, anyway. When is a window not a window? When it's a wall! And there were people moving on the other side of the wall. The shadows didn't line up right. Time to investigate!

He hopped out of the bed, getting unsteadily to his feet. Shoes. Legs. They didn't feel right; they were legs and not-legs at the same time. Was not-legs a word? No, it was two. He teetered, struck by the sensation of unease one gets when one's untucked shirt trails like a tail at a formal occasion. How embarrassing, to have a tail. There was an injection for that, wasn't there? There was an injection for everything nowadays, including musicians. He hated sell-outs, all so eager to grab a bite of ol' Franky Fonty as well as the big dollars. No more Eve's Garden for them, right?

Feet. Left. Right. Walk. His legs were the wrong size for his body, like some kid's doll. The fake kind, not the metaphor. Though that would also apply if Steinman was around, yes indeed. Left. Right. Left. Right. Up to the window. Knock. Extend an arm, extend a fist. Funny-looking fist. All clenched up and shiny.

"Knock. Knock. Knock. Open up, mister doctor."

There was scurrying on the other side. Rats?

"Open up, mister doctor. I can see your shadow there."

More scurrying. Nasty rats. Break the window? Break the wall? He hadn't taken the right needle for that. Ha! How many had he had? Far too many. Three too many. None too many! Never enough needles for himself. It was always locked away in those girls, the lovely little girls.

Could he cloud inside? Explode in a shower of rose petals and ash? Do a little vanishing act?

The window opened before he could decide. One moment a wall with a hint of window, the next moment a window with a hint of wall. How strange. There was a face there too, with several little faces clustered beside. Mind your manners, now. This big one looks posh. Lady Smith posh, with more to spare. Maybe some blue, maybe some red if he played his cards right. They always had some to spare, right? Might just call the buzzy-bots, but it was easy come and easy go. He'd handled worse. He scratched his head with a fist. They didn't seem to want to come unstuck today. Too many needles?

Lady Smith sure did look off today, though. Whinny, snicker. Ride too many ponies and you turn into one, as the saying went. Manners!

"Can he see us now?" she whispered. Rude, wasn't it? Whispering in company? There was another voice. "Ah. I see." She coughed.

"Dear pony, welcome to Canterlot Castle. You have been resting here ever since you arrived. I apologise for the quarantine, but your arrival was far from ordinary. I am Princess Celestia, ruler of the land of Equestria. May I enquire as to your name?" He smiled. Blue or red, it didn't matter. He and the missus were going to get along just fine.

"Step inside the room, Lady Smith. The screen's always so impersonal! Come and talk, and don't be shy," he said to the image. And then, the wall returned. Nothing but shades of window-light marked where the image had stood.

Visitors! To his room! Which, it had to be said, he didn't have prior to waking. Good! Hiding would be more of a challenge. He stood in front of the bed, and stood still. Mister Chamaeleon, that's who he was. They can't see you if you don't move. And then they'll be the ones who don't move. That's logic!

As Dum and Dee once said.