Stuff: This was a long time coming, for which I apologize. Thanks for all the reviews, though (well, most of them, anyway!). They're always appreciated.
As always, have fun.
Drifty.
This time there was a different colored ceiling. It was white and tiled. Plus, there was the distinct smell of disinfectant in the air, adding to the general sense of sterility. The face peering at him was the same, though.
"Ah, welcome back," the cop said.
"Huh? Where am I?" Fry spluttered. "This isn't a cell!"
"No, this is a hospital," the cop explained patiently. "You were shot, remember?"
Now Fry was beginning to remember. "You shot me!" Fry cried indignantly, and began to push himself up to gain a better position for yelling at the cop. However, he was stopped by the pain that shot from his shoulder down his entire arm.
The cop coughed lightly. "Yes, it seems we made a small mistake."
"A 'small mistake'! What did you think I was gonna do with a remote control? Maybe it was part of the same plan I had to disrupt a restaurant, drug myself, and steal my own clothing!"
"Uh, well, we got the results of the lab tests back and they concluded that the device you were brandishing during a bank robbery was definitely not a weapon-"
"Well, duh!"
"And, therefore, you were not involved with the robbery."
"Obviously!"
Fry leaned back on the bed, pleased that finally, maybe, this insanity was over. The cop handed him back the remote.
"The doctors have said you're okay to leave, so we'll drop you off somewhere if you like." The cop now seemed to want to help.
Fry suddenly recalled Leela's package, and panicked for a second until he saw that someone with some sense had put it onto the little cupboard next to his bed. He picked it up and waved the address at the cop. "I'd like to go here."
The man squinted at the writing for a second. "Oh, that's easy," he said. "It's just around the corner."
Fry stepped out of the police hover-car onto the sidewalk, after an incredibly short journey from the hospital to his destination.
"Have a nice day, Mr Fry," the cop called, before driving off again.
"Yeah, right, like it's gonna improve," Fry muttered to himself as he turned to look at the building that corresponded to the address Leela had given him, and was immediately proved correct.
The letters in the front window announced: Mr. Sam's Dry Cleaning.
Fry tried to speak, but ended up spluttering something that wasn't quite words. Inside, he was greeted by an old man behind a counter with a huge smile.
"Welcome! How may I be of service to you?"
Fry glared at the man, but that didn't cause his smile to diminish.
He tossed the package onto the counter. "My friend sent me to bring you this," he growled, now sure that Leela had sent him on a stupid trip to sort out her dry cleaning.
The old man-apparently Mr Sam- opened the package and removed a couple of dirty shirts and a small slip of paper. "Ah, yes!" he exclaimed, "Wait there a second!" He disappeared through to a back room, and returned half a minute later with some clothes wrapped into protective paper.
"These are the ones she left last week that are now ready." He handed Fry, whose expression of bewilderment and anger had not yet even flinched.
"Yeah, whatever, thanks," Fry hissed and turned to leave.
"Have a nice day!"
Fry would have throttled the man, if the door hadn't hit him in the face when he turned back to do so.
"Dry cleaning?"
"Fry, what happened to you?!" Leela took in Fry's odd clothing, lack of shoes and bandaged arm. "You've been gone for hours, and you look...awful."
"Dry cleaning?"
"Yes, Fry." Leela took the freshly cleaned clothes from Fry's hand. "That's what it is."
"You sent me to pick up your dry cleaning?"
"Yes, and you thought that involved becoming some kind of beat-up fashion disaster?"
"I had my pants stolen, partly destroyed a restaurant, was drugged and lost my shoes, was arrested-/twice/, wound up in the middle of a bank heist, and was shot!" Fry blurted angrily at Leela. His anger had only grown during his trip back to Planet Express, for which he had jumped in the nearest tube and returned in a matter of seconds.
Now, worried, Leela led him to a seat. "How did you manage that?"
"It's all your fault. You got me to do your lame errands, and I end up almost getting killed. Multiple times."
"Only you could almost get killed going to the dry cleaners," Leela stated, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.
"It's not funny!" Fry growled. Leela caught another look at Fry's pants and decided it definitely was funny.
Bender entered the room just then. "Hey, dude, have you got the TV remote? I can't find it anywhere. I was sure I had it earlier-" The robot's speech was cut off as he was hit in the head with the remote.
Fry stood and was about to storm out, but Leela grabbed his hand before he could leave. Her face displayed a feeling of mild guilt. It had been her, after all, who had thought, mistakenly, that Fry could benefit from getting away from the TV and doing something helpful.
"How about we go for that meal?"
Fry immediately forgot everything that had happened prior to that moment.