Sawbones
By @Za
Chapter Two
7:30 AM. Scooter has been sedated and sufficiently horrified. I make the incision into his abdomen with perfect precision. The cut is clean. Flawless. The abstract melodies of King Crimson continue to fill the room. Good for terrifying a patient, though a bit too freeform for my current mood. With bloodied, gloved hands, however, my only option is to grin and bear it lest I have to sanitize myself once more. If I set my queue up correctly, Tom Petty should be on next.
At any rate, the incision is made. It reveals a treasure trove of small, delicate organs. I fail to hold back a small giggle of delight. I feel as if I’m back in my youth browsing a candy store for half-price suckers on a Friday. Those were the days. Now I get paid handsomely to operate on the pets of suckers. I am pleased with the life I live. I get to do what I love every single day.
I poke a finger into one of Scooter’s kidneys. He lurches softly, a reminder to myself that he was insufficiently sedated. He can feel every bit of this, and is likely to wake up before this is over. I press my finger more firmly into the kidney now, causing Scooter even more extreme pain. He writhes, crying a pathetic “huu” as I poke and prod at his organs. It’s lovely how powerless he is to stop me. Then, I begin to squeeze at his intestines. I’m searching for the blockage. Well, not really. His chart shows precisely where the blockage should be. I’m simply being cruel. As expected, there is a large bulge in that section of his small intestine. I feel a twitch in the table. I look up to see Scooter’s eyes crack open. Perfect! I slip away quickly, crouching down beneath the table.
“H-hewwo?” he calls into the void. “Mummah? Nice doctah? Whewe Scootah?” His voice sounds especially weak and strained. He’s only just awake. I should fix that.
I leap up from beneath the table, letting out a visceral “GROOOOAAAAAAAAAR!” Scooter howls in fear, his eyes shooting open and his legs wiggling fruitlessly against the restraints. I fail to hold back a laugh as Scooter shakes and continues to scream.
“Nu huwt Scootah! Doctah am nice doctah so nu huwt Scootah wite?” he reasons. His logic is surprisingly sound for a fluffy, although he is incorrect.
“You’re in Hell, Scooter,” I say, traipsing back to my previous position and picking up my tools. “Hell is where bad fluffies go when they die.”
Scooter’s heart visibly shatters and the dam breaks, allowing his tears to flow freely. “Scootah gud fwuffy! Nu wan fowebah sweepies! Wan mummah! Wan make poopies gain!”
Surprisingly selfless requests for a fluffy. I’m not against their existence by any means. If I were a… “normal” person, I wouldn’t mind having one for a pet. Oh well, no time for hypotheticals. I’ve work to do.
“It’s too late for that, my friend,” I say sadistically. I grab a handful of Scooter’s intestines and lift them up for him to see. His pupils shrink to pinpoints when he sees this.
“T-tummy… sketties?” Scooter stutters in shock. I grin a wide, toothy grin at him.
“Yes, indeed.” I lean in towards the handfuls I have, gnashing my teeth and smacking my lips. The heat and smell of his organs leaves me ecstatic. High on life, if you will. I turn my eyes slowly to meet Scooter’s gaze. “And guess what, Scooter?”
He sits silently, trembling as he looks up at his own intestines.
“I’M GOING TO EAT YOUR TUMMY SKETTIES!” I bellow loudly. Scooter squeals for all he’s worth as I laugh maniacally, pretending to slurp his guts up like a pasta dish. The look on his face is priceless. A delicious mixture of pain, horror, and heartbreak. If only I had a camera. Pictures are typically worth a thousand words, but I considered that expression a novel at its bare minimum. With a dull thud, Scooter’s head falls back to the table as he faints. I smirk. Should save us money on anesthesia. I usually have to put fluffies back under after this part.
I carefully begin to return Scooter’s organs to their original position, though I can’t help wondering… no, I mustn’t. Although…
Ah, the hell with it. I give his intestines a nibble. I don’t bite anything off, I simply sample the flavor and texture. Gamey, hints of pork. Unfortunately, quite chewy. I never have been a fan of chewy textures in meat. I swallow the last bits of flavor and return to my work.
Scalpel in hand, I make a quick incision into the pink meat of Scooter’s small intestine. No shortage of feces, that much is certain. Of course, I also see the blockage. A rock. How expected of these idiotic little animals to indulge in rocks. I delicately remove the rock. Easy as pie. I place the rock with my tools and grab my stitching equipment. I make quick work of the small intestine, sewing it back up perfectly. I look longingly at Scooter’s guts. The first fluffy I had ever tasted the organs of. Disgusting, yet exciting. Had the texture been more palatable, I would have given Scooter a bowel resection and taken a piece of his intestine home with me to have as a snack. I don’t get the trend of fluffies as food, truthfully. I just get a rush from poking around in their guts. That aside, I’m pleased with the work I’ve done. Scooter was lucky that the rock didn’t cause any serious damage. He’ll be able to go home today.
The time is about 8:45 AM now. Scooter is all stitched up and I’ve just washed my hands of the blood. I resisted the urge to take another lick of the blood. I’m standing by, waiting for Scooter to come to. The speakers now offer the soothing melodies of an all-piano radio station. I have my faux-comfort face at the ready. Right on time, Scooter wakes back up from his self-induced unconsciousness. He begins to scream immediately, wiggling violently against the restraints. The fool will cause serious damage moving like that. I need to stop him.
“Hey, hey, calm down Scooter!” I say hurriedly, gently letting him behind his ears. “It’s okay, it’s okay! What’s the matter, little guy?” He squeals like nothing I’ve ever heard.
“MUNSTAH! MUNSTAH! TUMMY SKETTIES! NU NUM TUMMY SKETTIES! NU WAN BE IN HEWW! WAN MUMMAH! MUMMAAAAAH!”
Lord above, this is the deepest terror I’ve seen yet. I wonder if he felt the nibble I left in his intestines. Oh well, I must calm him.
“What’s that? Tummy sketties? That’s right buddy, I got the rock out of your tummy so now you can make good poopies again!” I explain, holding back a shit-eating grin like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I hold the rock up for Scooter to see. “Look! That’s what was in your tummy!”
By now, Scooter has mostly calmed down. I can see his rapid breathing as I watch this violet abdomen pump shallow breaths in and out. He’s not entirely convinced. “You must have been having a bad dream,” I tell him, scratching behind his ears. “So… nu num tummy sketties? Nu fowebah sweepies?” I put on an even sweeter voice than before. The expression on his face softens and the glitter returns to his eyes.
“Aww, of course not Scooter! Come on, let’s go see your mother.” I undo the restraints and invite him into a pet carrier. He gently rolls over and trots into the bedded container. “Careful, little guy,” I warn him. “You’ve gotta be gentle with your tummy for a little while.”
We exit the OR into the hallway. I offer him a quick reminder. “Remember, Scooter. I know you’re excited to see your mother, but you need to walk slowly over to her,” I inform him with soft tone. “Okay?”
“Otay nice doctah,” he responds, “Scootah undahstan.” I return to the waiting room with the handle of Scooter’s carrier in my left hand. The room is barren except for a gentle-looking redheaded woman I recognize as Scooter’s owner. Her head snaps to attention when the door opens. I watch a wide smile cross her face as her bright green eyes light up. Things like that make me feel almost guilty, knowing the terror I just caused this fluffy.
But as I said… it’s only almost guilt.
I call out to her. “Look who’s feeling all better!” I place the carrier down on the floor, opening the door. Scooter slowly waddles over to his mother and hugs her leg.
“Mummah! Mummah! Scootah nu hab tummy huwties nu mowe!” Scooter says proudly.
The woman carefully steps past Scooter and comes to shake my hand. “Thank you so much, Dr. Lane! What all do I need to do now?”
I nod, offering her a smile. “Be gentle with his abdomen for a while, don’t let him run too much, and try to keep him away from rocks so he doesn’t swallow any more.” She nods, thanking me again as she places Scooter into her own carrier and leaves.
As the two are leaving, Scooter calls out to me one last time. “Fank ou nice doctah!” I giggle and give him a wave. I hear Scooter say to his mother “Huwwy mummah, Scootah nee make poopies.” I chuckle, smiling at the young female receptionist as I head back to my office to relax a bit more before my next patient.
As I sit at my desk, I enjoy a bit of Huey Lewis & The News. I file through a few sheets of paperwork, chat with Eliza about our weekends, and hang on a thought.
I wanted another bite.
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