Boring. Boring. Boring. Mayb—nope, boring.
Bryce Morris toyed with the remote, lazily flipping through channels. Pediatric care TV stoinked—it was all either reruns of confusing sitcoms only his parents could appreciate, or programs for babies that made his ears hurt. Why did the people who made shows think kids wanted to listen to even younger kids trilling in high-pitched voices?
He squashed his head into the pillow as far it could go, glum. Today was one of the good days and he was already squandering it. He could ask to visit Felipe or Thalidomide Jenna across the way, but what if they were having bad days? Then he'd just have to wander the unit on his own. That was boring too. There weren't any bugs (he'd checked). Wheelchair racing was now strictly and explicitly verboten (reasons unknown). The red snail-trails decorating the hallway floors were not in fact evidence of murder like he'd previously believed (Nurse Hadassah explained colour theory to him once when she was distributing the pudding cups).
It was enough to make him miss the hospice.
Not really. But almost.
Just then, a lady wearing an eyepatch and a bulging black trenchcoat entered the room. At first he thought it was Rob's mom, but Rob had been transferred to another ward that morning. The lady approached his bed silently and with purpose. She blocked the TV screen.
"Hey," he started to complain, out of principle. There still wasn't anything watchable on.
The lady opened her trenchcoat and a reticulated python spilled out onto his lap.
Bryce gaped. He might have squealed.
It was awesome, yeah, but also way bigger than he'd expected. The one at the zoo hadn't even been this huge. He knew from documentaries that they could exceed twenty feet.
The python uncoiled its great patterned length, forked tongue flicking in and out to taste the air. The pressure on Bryce's legs lifted as the snake slithered off his lap, seemingly uninterested in him, and began investigating the corners of the bed. He leaned over and managed to stroke its scales before it lowered itself to the floor. He didn't mind. Snakes were such fascinating creatures.
"Miss! Excuse me!" Nurse Hadassah stormed into the ward. "You can't bring animals in here! Are you insane? You have to leave!"
"Wish granted," the lady said.
She booked it out the door and into the hallway at an inhuman speed, and Nurse Hadassah had to grip the door frame to keep from falling over. As the nurse dashed out in hot pursuit of the intruder, Bryce looked around for the python. How could it have vanished so quickly? It was like eight feet long.
Outside his ward, someone yelled. "A snake is eating my new heart!"
