Later that evening, Arthur hurried over to Buster's condo, lured by the promise
of an exciting surprise. After Bitzi welcomed him inside, he found Buster
squatted on the living room floor, programming his new alien toy with marching
and speaking instructions. "Cool!" he exclaimed. "You got a Mezmo. But I
thought you didn't have the money yet."
"I didn't," replied Buster as Arthur sat down on the floor in front of him. "Mr. Fillmore cut me a deal. He's a really nice guy."
The rabbit boy then pushed a button on the back of the toy, and it started to march along the carpet, issuing threats. "You are now subjects of the Mezmar Empire! Resist and you shall be destroyed!"
"Wow, that's really amazing," marveled Arthur. "And you didn't have to steal this one." After watching the robot wander away, he examined his friend's face more carefully. "You don't look so well, Buster."
"I feel fine," said Buster, jumping to his feet to retrieve his Mezmo toy.
"I took his temperature," said Bitzi, who had settled in front of the TV news. "It's 96 degrees. He doesn't have a fever."
While Buster chased his toy around the kitchen, he heard a knock at the door, and answered it. "Hey, Fern. Come in."
The poodle girl beamed with delight when she stepped into the condo and saw the robot lurching about. "Oh, it's a Mezmo!" she gushed. "I've always wanted one of those." She started to race with Buster to see which of them could catch up with the walking toy first.
Arthur, who had followed Buster into the kitchen, watched incredulously as Fern snatched the Mezmo toy off the floor and held it up as if it were an adorable kitten. "Fern? You..." he started to say.
"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't like robot toys," Fern informed him, then turned back to Buster. "Will you show me how to program him?"
"Sure." Buster grinned.
"You look pale," Fern remarked. "I mean, you're always pale because you're a white rabbit, but you look paler than usual."
"I'm fine," Buster insisted. He opened up a plastic panel in Mezmo's back and started to describe the controls to Fern. "These switches tell Mezmo which way to turn and how long to keep going in one direction. These dials tell him what to say..."
Arthur and Fern stayed for half an hour, enjoying the new toy with Buster. Soon the rabbit boy's bedtime arrived, and Bitzi inspected him while he stood in his bedroom, wearing his striped pajamas.
"You look a little paler than before," she observed. "If you feel sick during the night, don't be afraid to wake me up."
"I'll be fine, Mom," said Buster, climbing into his bed. Bitzi tucked him in and gave him a goodnight kiss, and soon he was snoring and dreaming.
Or rather, having nightmares.
While he could usually remember his nightmares in vivid detail (especially his two worst ever, one where he was stranded in the desert with nothing to eat and another where he had to spend the day at school handcuffed to Sue Ellen), this particular nightmare was nothing but psychedelic colors and confused emotions.
After what seemed like several hours of mental torture, Buster sat upright and screamed. Looking around anxiously, he found to his relief that he was back in his bedroom, fast awake and safe from the night terrors.
But something was wrong. Normally his heart beat wildly after he came out of such a traumatic dream. On this occasion, it felt as if his heart wasn't beating at all.
Vaguely recalling something Mr. Ratburn had said about a non-beating heart being a signal of imminent mortal peril, Buster did the smartest thing he could think of--he checked his own pulse. Placing his right fingers over his left wrist, he felt...nothing. Nothing except for an uncharacteristic coldness of the skin and flesh.
And it got worse. He suddenly realized that he wasn't breathing.
He sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. It didn't take him long to figure out that he could breathe if he willed himself to, but no longer felt the compulsion to breathe unconsciously.
No heartbeat...no breathing...cold skin...
He lowered himself from the bed, and was amazed that the hardwood floor, usually cold at this time of year, felt warm against his bare feet. Taking a few steps, he switched on the light, looked into the dresser mirror...and gasped in horror.
His face was ghastly white, except for dark circles surrounding his eyes. His ears were drooped and crumpled in a grotesque manner. What little hair he had was almost completely gone, and what remained appeared as stiff as needles.
While Buster struggled to think of an explanation for his sudden change, the door to his bedroom opened and his mother poked her head in, having heard his scream. She screamed as well when she beheld her son's wraith-like visage.
"Mom, can you take my temperature again?" Buster asked her earnestly. "I think I'm dead."
TBC
"I didn't," replied Buster as Arthur sat down on the floor in front of him. "Mr. Fillmore cut me a deal. He's a really nice guy."
The rabbit boy then pushed a button on the back of the toy, and it started to march along the carpet, issuing threats. "You are now subjects of the Mezmar Empire! Resist and you shall be destroyed!"
"Wow, that's really amazing," marveled Arthur. "And you didn't have to steal this one." After watching the robot wander away, he examined his friend's face more carefully. "You don't look so well, Buster."
"I feel fine," said Buster, jumping to his feet to retrieve his Mezmo toy.
"I took his temperature," said Bitzi, who had settled in front of the TV news. "It's 96 degrees. He doesn't have a fever."
While Buster chased his toy around the kitchen, he heard a knock at the door, and answered it. "Hey, Fern. Come in."
The poodle girl beamed with delight when she stepped into the condo and saw the robot lurching about. "Oh, it's a Mezmo!" she gushed. "I've always wanted one of those." She started to race with Buster to see which of them could catch up with the walking toy first.
Arthur, who had followed Buster into the kitchen, watched incredulously as Fern snatched the Mezmo toy off the floor and held it up as if it were an adorable kitten. "Fern? You..." he started to say.
"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't like robot toys," Fern informed him, then turned back to Buster. "Will you show me how to program him?"
"Sure." Buster grinned.
"You look pale," Fern remarked. "I mean, you're always pale because you're a white rabbit, but you look paler than usual."
"I'm fine," Buster insisted. He opened up a plastic panel in Mezmo's back and started to describe the controls to Fern. "These switches tell Mezmo which way to turn and how long to keep going in one direction. These dials tell him what to say..."
Arthur and Fern stayed for half an hour, enjoying the new toy with Buster. Soon the rabbit boy's bedtime arrived, and Bitzi inspected him while he stood in his bedroom, wearing his striped pajamas.
"You look a little paler than before," she observed. "If you feel sick during the night, don't be afraid to wake me up."
"I'll be fine, Mom," said Buster, climbing into his bed. Bitzi tucked him in and gave him a goodnight kiss, and soon he was snoring and dreaming.
Or rather, having nightmares.
While he could usually remember his nightmares in vivid detail (especially his two worst ever, one where he was stranded in the desert with nothing to eat and another where he had to spend the day at school handcuffed to Sue Ellen), this particular nightmare was nothing but psychedelic colors and confused emotions.
After what seemed like several hours of mental torture, Buster sat upright and screamed. Looking around anxiously, he found to his relief that he was back in his bedroom, fast awake and safe from the night terrors.
But something was wrong. Normally his heart beat wildly after he came out of such a traumatic dream. On this occasion, it felt as if his heart wasn't beating at all.
Vaguely recalling something Mr. Ratburn had said about a non-beating heart being a signal of imminent mortal peril, Buster did the smartest thing he could think of--he checked his own pulse. Placing his right fingers over his left wrist, he felt...nothing. Nothing except for an uncharacteristic coldness of the skin and flesh.
And it got worse. He suddenly realized that he wasn't breathing.
He sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. It didn't take him long to figure out that he could breathe if he willed himself to, but no longer felt the compulsion to breathe unconsciously.
No heartbeat...no breathing...cold skin...
He lowered himself from the bed, and was amazed that the hardwood floor, usually cold at this time of year, felt warm against his bare feet. Taking a few steps, he switched on the light, looked into the dresser mirror...and gasped in horror.
His face was ghastly white, except for dark circles surrounding his eyes. His ears were drooped and crumpled in a grotesque manner. What little hair he had was almost completely gone, and what remained appeared as stiff as needles.
While Buster struggled to think of an explanation for his sudden change, the door to his bedroom opened and his mother poked her head in, having heard his scream. She screamed as well when she beheld her son's wraith-like visage.
"Mom, can you take my temperature again?" Buster asked her earnestly. "I think I'm dead."
TBC