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