Peggy awoke the next morning to the sound of ruffling of bags. She turned over to see Bobby putting a whoopie cushion in his backpack.
"Too bad I didn't get a chance to use this bad boy on the nurse," he said, zipping the bag up, "guess I'll just have to get Shaggy for the fourth time."
"Leaving already? It's not even seven," Peggy said from her bed. Bobby turned to her, throwing the backpack onto his bed.
"The nurse said I could leave anytime so I'm just waiting for dad to come to pick me up. In the meantime, I'm gonna see what I can scavenge to eat from the food court," Bobby left and Peggy yelled after him.
"Wait, bring me a bag of chips," she cried, slumping back into her bed, "looks like it's just you, Peggy."
Bobby found himself walking down dimly-lit, liminal halls. Here and there a cough would echo from one of the rooms. Bobby wondered about the people behind each door, what they were going through. As he walked down one corridor, he heard the hysterical wailing of a woman wrapped in grief. He imagined that the only thing that could cause a person to feel such a high intensity of pain was losing a loved one. The thought of how many loved ones were lost in this building sent a chill crawling down his spine. What a dreary place to pass, he thought. The colors were bland, not a plant in sight, seething in a negative emotional aura, who would want their last moments to be here. Finally, he came upon an elevator and a directory. The cafeteria was on the third floor.
The elevator opened and Bobby got in, only for two staff members in plastic, blue gowns to file in after him. He pressed the third-floor button.
"Where ya headed fellas?"
"Sixth floor, thanks," a taller man with square-cut black hair said. Bobby noticed small cuts on his face and even more on his arms and wrists. The two men began conversing.
"You know I been waiting for this day since that furry little nutsack got here," a shorter man with an underbite said.
The tall man chuckled, "I don't usually agree with you Jones, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't wanna see that hellspawn tossed in a woodchipper."
These guys aren't very professional for doctors, Bobby thought.
"You know who gets the honor?" The short guys asked his friend.
"No, who?" He reciprocated.
"Craig and Schmitt," the short guy said excitedly.
"Get outta here, Craig Simmons and Schmitt Erickson? From paramed?" The tall guy said.
"Bingo, those lucky sons of bitches,"
"So guys, I was talking to my doctor this morning and I asked him if I'd be able to play the banjo after my operation," Bobby began, causing the other two to snap out of their conversation. They peered down at Bobby with confusion. "He says 'of course, you only suffered a minor stab wound to the leg.'" The two doctors looked at each other and then back to Bobby. "So I say, 'well that's great, I've never been able to play the piano before,'" Bobby finished, slapping his knee and laughing. An awkward silence ensued before the elevator opened, Bobby waved the two goodbyes and made his way into the cafeteria.
On his way, he ran into a vending machine. Most of the candy had been sold out, and the spot where M&M's would've been was replaced with small pamphlets about "Candy People Rights." He went over to a counter where a man was serving lasagna.
"One slice of lasagna please," Bobby asked, "and this bag of potato chips," he said setting them on the counter.
"Anything else for ya, little man?" The server said, scooping a hunk of lasagna onto a paper plate.
"You guys got any M&M's? The vending machines out," he asked,
"Didn't you hear? The M&M people pulled their products from markets," the server said, handing Bobby the plate.
"What? Why? Isn't that the Chocolate Town's main export M&M's?" Bobby replied in shock. He took his wallet from his pocket to pay.
"Look, kid… I don't wanna destroy your innocent world view," the server said taking the five and ringing it up on his register.
"I'm fourteen, I can handle it," Bobby pleaded.
"Okay kid. Candy Land's not as honky dory as the board game makes it out to be. It's a third-world country riddled with racism and intense political warfare. There's tons of civil unrest and odds are civil war's gonna break out," the guy sputtered, leaving Bobby's jaw gaping, "did I mention we recently discovered the M&M kingdom's begun developing nuclear arms?"
"How could candy be racist?" Bobby yelled.
"You ever heard of the Skittle Kingdom?" The server asked.
"I've heard of Skittles," Bobby responded.
"Search it on Bing if you really wanna know more," he said ominously, "next."
Bobby took a seat at a small table and began eating his lasagna. He overheard more staff talking at a nearby table.
"Y'all ready to watch patient 19 get the shot?" One excited woman asked.
"I never thought I'd see the day an entire Hospital building would be gleaming over the idea of putting a cat down," a man replied with glee.
"That demon's been nothing but trouble. Did you hear it bit Dr. Forte's Achilles tendon?" The woman asked.
"Forte? Good, that guy gives me the creeps," the other doctor responded.
"Right? He's just below Satan's little furball on the list of things we need to put down here," the woman reciprocated. The two of them laughed together.
These guys can't seriously hate a cat that much, Bobby thought to himself.
"I fucking hate that cat with every fiber of my being," a voice from another table said. Bobby turned to see three more doctors at another table.
"I'm gonna go home and fuck my wife tonight with the confidence that we don't have to care for that shit stain of a waste of breath ever again," another doctor said.
"Amen to that," the third said, offering his glass. The three dinked cups and cheered. Bobby took another bite of his lasagna when suddenly a loud alarm began blaring accompanied by flashing red lights. All of the doctors bolted up the stairs. Bobby watched as people darted by in a panic.
"Hey, where's everybody going?" He shouted at a doctor who ignored Bobby and ran upstairs.
Guess I should follow. Ooh, maybe I'll see a crazy person, Bobby said. He folded the paper plate and stuffed it in his pocket, following the school of doctors up to the sixth floor. When he entered the hallway, he saw large streaks of blood and scratch marks on one of the walls. Looking down, two mangled bodies sat in a puddle of more blood.
"Oh god, I think it's Simmons and Erickson…" a woman uttered in terror, dropping her clipboard to the floor with a clang.
"It must've gotten some of the lasagna…" a raspy old man's voice quivered.
A doctor noticed Bobby and turned to him, "you gotta get outta here, kid, that things on the loose," a panicked. He grabbed Bobby's arm to take him downstairs but Bobby kicked him in the nuts and took off down the hall.
I gotta help that cat… he thought to himself, checking rooms as ran down the hall. Most of them were locked. The ones he could open, Bobby noticed were bare, with walls made of soft material. The alarm continued blaring and blinding red lights flashed everywhere. Despite this, Bobby carefully followed the blood trail. Eventually, it ended at room 1978. He cracked the door open. Peaking in, it was entirely barren like the other rooms except for a small cat bed in the corner. Something was shaking under a baby blue blanket. Bobby slowly approached, closing and locking the door behind him.
"Hey there, little kitty… I'm not gonna hurt ya… my name's Bobby Hill… I wanna help…" Bobby softly spoke, slowly stepping closer. The shaking stopped. Bobby held his hand out, hoping he could convince the critter to caress it. The cat slowly turned around, fear clearly still in it's eyes. He was a fat, striped, orange Tabby cat.
"Are you here to kill me too? Let me tell ya, this's been the worst Monday since yesterday..." the cat said, wincing at Bobby's hand.
"Woah… you can talk…" Bobby uttered.
"Hey, wait a second, you're just a kid," the cat realized. He seemed to relax a little.
"What's your name?" Bobby asked the cat.
"Listen, I need to ask you a favor. Can you get me outta here?" The cat quickly asked Bobby.
"I dunno… did you kill those two guys out there?" Bobby asked in return. The cat looked down in sorrow.
"I did… but I wasn't in control, and those guys were gonna kill me first, you gotta believe me, kid," the cat said, staring directly into Bobby's heart with his adorable kitty eyes.
"Okay," Bobby replied, picking the cat up.
"Where're we gonna go?" The cat asked as Bobby plopped him over his shoulder.
"We'll go to my mom. She's had a cat before so she'll know what to do," Bobby replied.
"What about all the doctors? They'll see me on your shoulder," the cat pointed out.
"We'll take an elevator. They all took the stairs and are probably still near the bodies over there," Bobby said, leaving the room. He began running down the hall, looking for an elevator door.
"What made you lose control?" Bobby asked as they ran.
"One of the doctors left a plate of lasagna on a rolling cart. I saw it as those guys were taking me to…" the cat paused.
"It's okay, I won't let them put you down," Bobby said, scratching the cat's head affectionately.
"Anyways, whenever I eat lasagna I lose control. I blackout and hurt people. When I wake up, I don't remember a thing," the cat continued explaining, "l couldn't help it, I inhaled the slice as I walked by, and the next thing I know I'm sitting in my bed covered in blood."
"That's awful," Bobby said, coming to two elevator doors and pressing the down button. Footsteps could be heard coming from down the hall, causing a panicked Bobby to throw the cat in a nearby trashcan. A doctor came over to Bobby with a stern expression
"What're you doing up here son? Can't you see the alarms?" He said, pointing to the red lights on the ceiling.
"Sorry, sir-"
"Doctor."
"Sorry mister doctor sir, I'm just waiting on the elevator," Bobby said, motioning to the elevator which suddenly opened.
"Perfect, I'll go with you," the doctor said, walking into the elevator.
"That's okay," Bobby said, "I'll get the next one."
"Please," the doctor added, holding the door open, "I insist. It would make me feel much better knowing you're safe…"
"I can't. I have Covid-19," Bobby replied.
"What the hell's Covid-" the doctor began to ask before Bobby kicked him in the nuts. He leaned in a pressed all nineteen floors. The elevator closed, sealing away the pained shrieks of the doctor grasping his aching scrotum on the ground.
"Close one," Bobby said, removing the lid from the trashcan. The cat looked up at him with a frown.
"You could give a cat a warning next time," he said as Bobby lifted him and shook the trash off.
"Sorry little guy," he threw the cat over his shoulder again. Getting into the other elevator, he went back down to the first floor. He inconspicuously hid the cat under his shirt and went back to their room. As he came in, he looked back and scanned the halls before closing the door.
"Thank goodness your back, what're all these alarms about? If I'm correct, which I usually am, there's a fire" Peggy asked, sitting up and setting a magazine aside.
"It's not a fire mom," Bobby replied. Peggy noticed something squirming under his shirt.
"What're you hiding under your shirt?" Peggy asked Bobby.
"Promise you won't tell the nurse?" Bobby asked in return.
"You're looking at the best promise keeper in Arlen, I swear to you Bobby," Peggy said, holding out her pinky. Bobby linked his pinky with hers, forming the everlasting bond of a pinky promise Jutsu. If one breaks the sacred promise of a pinky promise Jutsu, the Jutsu kills that person. Bobby lifted his shirt and the cat lept onto Bobby's bed. It began making biscuits and purring before linking its eyes with Peggy. The two looked at each other with utter shock.
"Garfield?"
"Peggy?"
