Dear Numbuh Four,
Today I asked him, I asked the tall doctor man who swoops every day past your hospital bed.
Why is Wallabee asleep, doctor? Why is he asleep?
The doctor looked at me very stern-like, his eyes glaring down his beaky nose like a wicked queen in a long white robe. And then he told me. His voice is like the lead in a pencil: dark and sharp and crumbly, sticking into my face.
A coma.
This is what he says that you are in. A long and deadly sleep. Snow White after her bite of poison apple.
When will he wake up?
I asked this question in a very small way.
When will he wake up?
The doctor man just looked at me with his asphalt eyes. And then he swept me away. But I will still come back to visit you tomorrow.
Your friend,
Numbuh Three
