Don't Try This at Your Local Bowling Alley
Do you know what’s the biggest example of positive thinking?
In my case, taking night shifts in the hospital and hoping that nothing would happen and I’ll be able to sleep, not bothered by anypony.
It all starts when I meet Nurse Sweetheart in the changing room. Lucky girl, she’s just leaving to be fat somewhere else. When I enter the room, she’s watching her flank in the mirror. Well, at least I didn’t catch her reading some magazine with lots of photos of pegasi mares wielding various large guns. From what I’ve heard from Nursery Rhyme, she has a habit of doing this in most inconvenient times or places.
“Hello,” Sweetheart says to me. “Night shift?”
“Yup,” I reply. “Me and Nursery. Anything unusual today?”
Sweetheart shakes her head, slamming the door of her locker. “Nope. Berry Punch accidentally ate her daughter’s ADHD medication, but she was released once her blood pressure could be measured without using the train engine gauges.”
“Since when does her daughter have ADHD?” I ask. “She has lots of issues, but ADHD isn’t one of them. Derpy Hooves’ daughter, however...”
“Yeah, I know,” Sweetheart mutters. “That filly with a potato?” She chuckles. “Anyway, have a cool night. Mine will definitely be cool...” She winks and walks away.
I shrug and open my locker to get my hat. After a moment, the door opens and Nursery Rhyme walks in, dumping her saddlebags in the middle of the room. “Hello,” she says. “I’ve met Sweetheart on my way. She seemed awfully happy.”
“Berry Punch,” I reply. “She took the wrong pills again.”
“Well, that probably means that nothing weirder will happen tonight,” Nursery says. “I’m taking the couch.”
You know, actually there are nights when literally nothing happens and we just walk around the hospital for a few times checking if all our patients are breathing. But it’s simple psychology: we only remember times where we were sleepless due to, for example, somepony resurrecting in the morgue, cleaning the aftermath of a failed partial decapitation, or trying to find a way to help a bunch of foals with diarrhea.
“Redheart?” Nursery Rhyme asks.
“What?”
“Are you sleeping?”
I sigh. “I’m trying to. You’re younger and used to pulling all-nighters, so you’ll wake me up.”
“Remember that patient who turned out to be a changeling?” Nursery asks, rising from the couch.
“Of course,” I reply, yawning. “Not everyday you have an occasion to get inside the air vent to fire a tranquilliser gun...”
“It was me who went into the air vent,” Nursery mutters. “Not to mention that I still think Sweetheart shot me deliberately.”
“I’m pretty sure she missed...”
“When the first dart got stuck in my mane, she fired for the second time.” Nursery Rhyme sighs. “I’m not sure, but it could be on purpose.”
“Maybe.” Suddenly, I have a thought so dumb, that I just have to share it with her. “You know what? You’re the only nursery rhyme that keeps ponies from falling asleep.”
“Oh, shut up.” Nursery turns towards the wall.
Suddenly, we hear some noise outside – the voices suggest that several ponies are arguing about something. There went a calm night.
I stand up and walk out of our room, ready to face anything that life has in store. In this case, we have three stallions escorting a tall, teenage mare. All four of them are discussing something loudly, but in a rather slurred manner. The smell and tone of voices tells me that they’re drunk, which is especially surprising since the mare appears to be pregnant.
I want Nursery to join me, just to stop me from unleashing my rage on them for such an irresponsible behaviour. Though, on the other hoof, Nursery would probably bite the mare’s legs off, just to be able to reach her carotid artery.
I clear my throat. “Excuse me!”
It takes a while before they stop talking and look at me. The mare staggers and sits on the floor, panting. I immediately make a mental note to call the midwives, in case the baby decides that their mommy is too dumb to stay with her any longer.
“Okay, I guess you really want to know which of you is the father, but couldn’t you come during the day?” I ask. “And, while we are at it, sober?”
The stallions look at each other unsurely, before one of them, light brown guy with a beard steps forward. “I believe there’s been, like, a misunderstanding, man.”
“I’m not a man and I’m not sure what do you mean by a misunderstanding,” I reply. Suddenly, it occurs to me that the girl could just be fat. In that case, goodbye my good reputation as a nurse.
“We were, like, having a party after winning a bowling tournament...”
A bowling tournament, eh? Nursery probably knows the exact numbers, but an average bowling alley contains about four hundred different objects one can get hurt with, especially when you’re drunk. And, of course, the party could’ve happened some time ago, enough for the baby to grow.
“So, what’s the problem, man?” I ask.
“I better explain,” the mare says quickly. “Those guys are idiots.”
“We are idiots?” A stallion with sunglasses leans to her. “If you weren’t so stubborn, we wouldn’t be here!”
“I was stubborn?” The mare rolls her eyes. “And who said, ‘I bet you won’t fit it there’?”
“And who actually did that?”
“You told me to!” the mare yells. “Also, you still owe me ten bits, sucker.”
“If I told you, like, to put a bowling pin up your ass, would you do that?” the guy asks, lifting his sunglasses.
“I already did!” The mare winces, rubbing her stomach. “My personal best is three and I’m working on more!”
I think I’ve heard enough. “Okay.” I point at the guy with a nice suit. “Everyone else, shut up. Tell me what happened, man.”
The dude clears his throat. “Like, Donny asked Allie if she could put a bowling ball up her…”
“Coochie?” I ask, remembering the last time this word was uttered here. It involved a mare getting stuck while licking her… well, you get the idea. Also I really should start collecting the things we fish out of various orifices. The potato would be a good start, but Rainbow Dash ate it. I guess a bowling ball will have to do.
“So, it’s still there?” I ask, walking to Allie and raising my head to take a look. “You can’t take it out?”
“If I could, I wouldn’t be here,” Allie replies. “Can we make it quick and, umm, quiet?” She blushes. “I don’t want everypony to know…”
“Well, your friends already woke up everypony in the hospital,” I mutter. “But don’t worry, we’ll try to handle it discreetly.” I turn towards our room. “Nursery, come here! We have a situation!”
Nursery walks out of the room, but stops halfway towards us, staring at Allie. “Holy crap…” she mutters, prolonging the vowels. “Since when are you pregnant, Spaghetti Noodle?”
“Not your business, runt.” Allie looks all the way down at Nursery. Given that if they were lesbians, Nursery would have to get a ladder to eat her out, it’s a really long way. “What are you doing here?”
“Working,” Nursery replies.
Allie suddenly becomes pale. “Umm, guys?” she asks. “Can we, like, go to another hospital? I’m pretty sure we can still go to Manehattan and–”
The three stallions look at each other. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be fine, Allie,” the thin, yellowish guy says. “We’ll wait for you here.”
“Let’s get you to the treatment room,” I say. “I guess number three is free?”
“Of course.” Nursery rushes to open the door for me and Allie.
It takes a while before Allie reaches the room. I guess it’s kinda hard to walk with a bowling ball between your hind legs, not to mention that Nursery getting eager to help is not something one would like to see in their life.
“So,” I say to make Allie more comfortable. “You two know each other?”
“We’re kinda classmates,” Nursery replies, grabbing some syringes from the drawers. “Of course, it doesn’t matter anymore since I spend most of my time here and Allie wastes her life for parties, bowling, and irresponsible sexual behaviours.” She pokes Allie’s belly with her hoof. “Which month is that?”
“No months,” I mutter and begin reciting, “Nineteen years old, female, bowling ball lodged in the vaginal cavity, AOB, FAC.”
“Will I die?” Allie asks, staring at me.
“Not from AOB,” I reply. “You’ll just have a hangover tomorrow. About FAC…”
“It means ‘Fucking Awkward Client’,” Nursery says. “Which is what you are, because you were always ending up in awkward situations. Remember that one day when our class went to a party and–”
“Nursery!” I exclaim. “She really doesn’t need to know that. Also, language.” That kid really went a long way since she started to work with me.
“She put a bowling ball in her pussy,” Nursery replies. “I guess she doesn’t mind a few swears here and there.”
“Maybe, but now we have to get it out,” I say. “Any ideas?”
“A few.” Nursery grabs a scalpel and smirks.
“I was thinking of calling Cunts and Runts,” I say, taking the scalpel away from her. “They generally help mares deliver babies, so I guess they won’t have trouble with a healthy bowling ball.”
Nursery nods. “To think about it… A bowling ball at least won’t smell that bad.”
“Stay with her,” I say. “I’ll get help.”
“Okay.”
I walk upstairs, wondering who could help me. Guys from the maternity ward are usually very nice, as long as you don’t wake them up in the middle of the night. I wonder who has a night shift on the first floor now… Stable? Yeah, probably him. Let’s see what he is doing.
“Stable?” I ask, knocking at the door of his room. “Are you sleeping?”
“No!” The voice behind the door seems slightly annoyed. “A few minutes ago, a drunk bowler came here to ask if I knew some good whorehouse.”
“I’m about to remove a bowling ball from someone’s vagina. Do you want to help?”
The door opens immediately. “Lead the way.”
When we come back to the treatment room, Allie is jumping up and down, while Nursery watches her, sitting on a gurney. I’m not sure what I walked in on and I’m not sure if I want to know.
“What’s going on?” Dr. Stable asks. It seems that he’s more used to situations requiring brain bleach than I do.
“We hoped it’d fall out,” Nursery replies. “I think it at least moved closer to the entrance.”
“Yeah, and I came twice,” Allie mutters, panting.
“We really didn’t need that information, thank you,” Nursery says with a groan. “You never could stop yourself from talking about your sex life to ponies who didn’t care about that.”
“I have a bowling ball in my cunt and healthy needs, unlike some ponies here!” Allie exclaims.
Nursery rolls her eyes. “Hair-trigger!”
“Cold little bitch!”
“Orgasm machine gun!”
“Cave troll from Frozen North!”
“Enough!” Dr. Stable exclaims. “Nursery, go fu– I mean, go find yourself a patient. You… Lie down, we’ll think of something.”
“What’s wrong with her?” I ask when Nursery leaves. “She never behaves like that. I mean, we kinda spoiled her, but she was always kind for the patients.”
“Well, there was that one time during a school trip when we were drunk and it didn’t work out well… What are you gonna do, doctor?” Allie turns her head to see Stable levitating a pair of rubber gloves out of the drawer.
“I’ll try to fish it out,” Dr. Stable replies. “Though maybe Redheart should do that? She has smaller hooves.”
“Couldn’t you, like, use magic or something?” Allie asks. “I’d feel more comfortable like that.”
Dr. Stable blushes. “It’s hard for me to levitate objects I can’t see.”
I open the glass cabinet, looking for a speculum. There are a few there, each of them sterilised and packed separately. “Well, you can take a look, doc…”
“Why do you hate me so much?” Allie whispers.
“You shouldn’t have put the bowling ball in there,” I say. “Then we wouldn’t have to look for it.”
“How about an X-ray?” Allie asks.
Dr. Stable and I look at each other. “That may work,” he says.
We don’t even manage to get out of the treatment room with Allie when we hear some noises outside. I open the door to see what’s going on.
Well, I wish I didn’t.
There are some patients who don’t want us to resuscitate them in case something happens to them. But there’s also one patient who, in case of emergency, will be smothered with a pillow on sight. And unfortunately, she’s here.
Cloud Kicker is staggering across the corridor. Large patches of her fur are missing and skin under them is bright red. It doesn’t seem to worry her in the slightest.
“High five!” she yells at the bowling guys. “Hoofsies! Yeah, high five!” She stands in the middle of the corridor and smiles proudly. “Fillies and gentlecolts, I fucked an octopus!”
The guys cheer and clap their hooves. Well, there are many things to be proud of, and Cloud Kicker’s standards are rather low in that matter. Once or twice a month she ends up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning and occasionally she just appears to ask for some strong painkillers because she wants to get high.
Well, maybe I’m a bit too harsh: we don’t actually want to smother her. But I’ve heard the surgeons have an agreement that if she ever ends up in their hooves, they’ll “accidentally” sterilise her.
“What the hell is going on here?” Dr. Stable asks.
Nursery Rhyme trots to us, panting. “I found myself a patient.”
“This is not a patient, this is the blind alley of evolution,” Dr. Stable replies. “What happened to her?”
“I fucked an octopus!” Cloud Kicker yells.
“She was helping Fluttershy carry the tank with a sick octopus,” Nursery Rhyme replies, ignoring Cloud Kicker. “Fluttershy doesn’t know exactly what she was trying to do, but the octopus didn’t like it. Oh, and it’s apparently venomous.”
“Venomous?” I ask. “Is that lethal?”
“Unfortunately not,” Nursery replies. “The subject is usually a bit light-headed, as we can see here.”
“So what?” Cloud Kicker staggers. “It was totally worth it…” Suddenly, she shudders and throws up on the floor.
“Vomiting is the next symptom,” Nursery says. “Then bloody diarrhea…” She pauses and looks at Cloud Kicker. “I’d better walk her to the toilet.”
“This floor survived worse things,” I mutter, watching Nursery pulling Cloud Kicker away. “Do you think she’ll need a blood transfusion afterwards?”
“Most likely,” Dr. Stable replies. “What is Cloud Kicker’s bloodtype?”
“Vodka, I think.” I shrug. “Dunno, when Nursery shows up, we’ll just tell her to take Cloud Kicker to the ward, give her water, blood, a new brain, whatever she needs, and call it a day. Meanwhile, we have a bowling ball to get out.”
When we get back to the treatment room, Allie is sitting on the chair, her legs spread. Her eyes are closed and she’s muttering something to herself.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Meditating,” Allie replies. “If I loosen my muscles enough, I may be able to queef it out.”
Well… That’s something unusual. A patient whose ideas may work. “Did it work so far?”
“I nearly peed myself,” Allie says. “By the way, is it bad that I, umm… relieved myself into that red bucket?”
“Wise choice,” I mutter. “That’s where we put biomedical waste.”
Well, given that the guys who dispose of it were here just yesterday, we’ll have to put it in the fridge and wait two weeks till they come to take our garbage away.
At least Nursery now knows there’s a separate fridge for that. When she joined our team, we somehow ended up with a red bucket full of used needles and tissues covered in snot of a guy that just came back from Zebrica standing in our fridge, right next to the dietetic shit Coldheart used to eat back then. It resulted in calling a bunch of guys with flamethrowers to disinfect everything.
“Okay then,” Dr. Stable mutters, turning on the X-ray machine. “Let’s see what’s in there.”
Allie stands behind the machine. We can clearly see a large, spherical object lodged in her pelvis. I can’t help but notice that she also has really nice, long femurs. That’s, like, where most of her height comes from.
“Now I see it.” Dr. Stable lights up his horn. “Let’s see if I can get it out.”
“Your magic touches my uterus.” Allie purrs. “I’m gonna get a unicorn coltfriend just to have him do that. Or maybe you’re free?”
“I don’t usually go out with patients,” Stable replies, smirking. “Unless they’re my type.”
“What’s your type?”
“Tall, blue-haired, blue-eyed…” Dr. Stable takes a closer look at Allie.
I clear my throat. “Excuse me, but you’d better focus on this bowling ball. We don’t want you to accidentally pull out her kidney or something.”
“You must be kidney me,” Allie says. “Is that even possible?”
“That was kinda cornea,” I mutter. “Though that’s how ability to make puns goes: urethra have it or not.”
“Shh, I think I got it,” Dr. Stable whispers, his horn aiming at Allie’s behind. “Just one more pull…”
“Ouch!” Allie winces, tears welling in her eyes. “This hurts!”
“Try to meditate some more,” I say. “He can’t get it out if you keep squeezing it inside.”
To think about it, that reminds me of that one time when Nursery and I were trying to untie Blossomforth. As you can see, being able to loosen up saves ponies a lot of trouble.
“If I meditate more, I’m gonna come!” Allie exclaims. “And it’s always kinda messy, just ask Nursery!”
Dr. Stable’s magic falters. From what I can see, he probably imagined that.
Allie blushes, smiling sheepishly. “It was really hard to get it out of her mane, you know…”
“We didn’t want to know that.” I sigh, rolling my eyes. Now I’ll think about it every time I see Nursery. Which is a lot, since we usually end up on duty together.
“Okay, nevermind.” Dr. Stable lights up his horn again. “This time I’m getting it out.”
“To think about it, you can go wild,” I say to Allie. “Some lubrication wouldn’t hurt.”
“Yeah… Aah!” Allie screams when Stable pulls the bowling ball with his magic. Still, no effect. It’s getting closer, but Allie’s getting some kind of twitches that not only make lining Stable’s horn up difficult, but also moves the ball back where it was. Stable, however, doesn’t give up.
Suddenly, I hear the sound of the door opening. I turn back to see Cloud Kicker, limping to us. She’s drenched in sweat and vomit, her eyes bloodshot.
“Hello!” she shouts. “Who’s making a porn movie here? As you can see, the news of my bloody diarrhea were greatly–” Her words drown in Allie’s scream and something that sounds like a bottle of champagne being opened. I turn to her just in time to see a wet bowling ball flying from under her tail. Stable ducks, the ball flying right above his head, bouncing off the wall and smashing with all its might into Cloud Kicker’s face, sending her flying out of the room.
“Whoops,” Allie mutters when we hear Cloud Kicker hitting the wall on the other side of the corridor.
“You were right,” I say. “That was pretty messy.”
I walk out of the treatment room, leaving taking care of the patient to Stable. He’s quite good at it you know. When I walk to Cloud Kicker, she’s surrounded by Nursery Rhyme and Allie’s bowling company.
“Dude, she’s, like, in a coma,” one of the guys says, poking Cloud Kicker with his hoof. She looks kinda creepy – she’s smiling sardonically, showing that she’s missing two front teeth now. I guess every blowjob she gives from now on will be an unforgettable experience.
“What did you do to her?” Nursery Rhyme asks, lifting Cloud Kicker’s hoof and releasing it to watch it hit the floor limply. “And what is that smell?” She winces and shudders. “It reminds me of… Eww!”
“The bowling ball chose freedom,” I reply. “And it’s exactly what you think it is. Keep your mane away from it.”
“I will.” Nursery blushes furiously. “Should we take Cloud Kicker to the ward, or do we call a hearse?”
Cloud Kicker groans and opens one eye, prompting the bowlers to sigh with relief. She looks around unsurely, until her gaze lands on the bowling ball, which is lying innocently in the corner. Cloud Kicker crawls to it and sniffs it. Then she curls up next to the ball, hugging it.
“Nothing will part us now, sweetheart,” she purrs, planting a kiss on the ball.
The whole corridor goes silent, Allie’s friends staring at the scene with a mix of disgust and disbelief. I guess it’s time for me to take care of the situation.
“Ward.” I trot towards the stairs. “Yes, definitely ward. After all, psychiatry is a ward too.” I look at those guys, Nursery, and Dr. Stable who just walked out of the treatment room with Allie. “Anyone who doesn’t work here, get out. Nothing to see here.”
I turn back and go upstairs to notify the guys in psychiatry that they’ll have a new patient. Or maybe two? I could use a comfortable bed, you know.
Not to mention that they have the best crayons in the world.
Author's Note
No, she's not leaving the ward. At least until the next part, which will happen in 2018, I guess.
