I sat slumped on the floor of my kitchen with my head resting in my hands. Upon waking up, I had allowed myself to hope that everything I’d been through was just a dream. There was a part of me that was still hoping it had been a nightmare. Unfortunately, Dash was sitting on that part of my mind, ruining any chance of convincing myself that this was salad-induced psychosis.

[So, uh. . . Dude, where’s my body?]

The hell if I know. How’d we get here?

[Discord.]

No shit. So you got his phone number? ‘Hello? It’s Dash. You accidently sent me to Earth with Don. No, it’s alright, I completely understand the mistake. Okay. Ahuh. Yep, my bags are packed. Zap me back to my body.’

[Whoa, no need to go back to being hostile.]

You don’t get it, do you? Magic doesn’t exist on Earth. You’re trapped here, permanently. One or both of us will merge or die, and your friends will be worried sick about you the whole time. For all we know, he’ll just zap all the ponies in his way over here.

[Twilight will stop him. She always does. . . And she won’t leave me trapped here.]

She may not have a choice.

I got up and made my way over to the refrigerator. The door opened and I looked for something to eat. There was half a gallon of expired milk, some apples I’d bought a month or so ago, tabasco, strawberry jelly, two beers, and moldy cheese. I closed the door and looked in the freezer. A couple slices of frozen steak, freezer-burned bacon, and T.V. dinners featuring large pictures of fake turkey.

[Damn, that’s a lot of meat. Why do I get the feeling I don’t want to know where it comes from?]

Probably because we cage animals by the thousands to breed and slaughter them. They help to feed a world populace in the billions. Without cows we wouldn’t have dairy or meat, and life would suck.

[That’s genocide! You can’t just kill a bunch of animals to feed everypony! Why not eat a salad?]

I looked back at my kitchen table where a wilted salad rested. I had never finished it, and now it had spots of mold growing on it.

Hah, no thanks. The cows don’t complain about it, they aren’t intelligent here.

[Still, that’s not cool.]

Well, if I’m not supposed to eat it, why is it so tasty? Anyway, this is a pointless debate. The other seven billion people on the planet will continue to eat meat if I stop, so that’s still a lot of dead cows.

I closed the freezer and opened my pantry. Dash was excited to see oatmeal in there, as it was probably the only unspoiled food she’d agree to eating. Luckily, the choice wasn’t up to her, and my eyes drifted over to some chili. It may have lacked meat, but it still tasted awesome. Chili was like dog food for bachelors.

Some stale bread would do well enough as toast, so I began by putting it in the toaster. I was starving, and quickly added on a couple of the old apples, the chili, and some oatmeal. My mind kept wandering to that steak in the freezer—it was so tempting. Instead, I decided to do something nice for a change and not eat an entire steak in front of Dash. If the day went poorly though, I wasn’t above eating a few cheeseburgers.

There must have been a hole in my stomach because it took all that food and several glasses of water to feel full. I went to check the date and time on my phone only to find that the battery was dead. While it charged, I found my watch over by my wallet and keys. I’d been gone for three days, which made it Monday. It was six in the morning, which meant I was due at work in thirty minutes.

“Guess it’s time to cash in some sick days,” I said out loud. I heard my cat meowing and saw him on patrol around his food bowl. The feeder was empty so I dumped a bag of cat food into it. That would keep him fed for a week or two.

My phone had finally powered up and I checked for messages. There were none, which was delightful—I get zapped to an alien world and no one wonders where I went. Then again, I am not the kind of person to go out a lot. Shift work and introducing myself as a nurse hadn’t done me any favors in the popularity contest of life.

I dialed up my boss, a lovely woman whose job it was to manage the nurses and keep us from open mutiny. With all the ridiculous changes to healthcare, recession impacting our pay, and difficulty retaining nurses, she had her hands full. Unfortunately, she was about to be told to suck it up as I wouldn’t be coming in to work.

The phone rang a few times. “Human Resources department, Nina speaking.”

“Hi, is Melody there?” I asked.

“Just a moment.” Distorted piano music started to play while I was on hold. If I were in an elevator, I’d claw my way out before I listened to this crap willingly. They couldn’t even adjust the volume properly, as it felt like it was ten times louder than the receptionist. I held the vile music at bay by placing it face-down on my lap.

[Melody isn’t such a bad name, so why are you imagining strangling her to death with a telephone cord?]

Because a knife would leave too much evidence.

[Please tell me you’re joking. You’ve been kinda scary since we got back to Earth.]

Scary? Nah, this is normal. I return to Earth with hitchhikers after being zapped to other dimensions all the time. The most important thing you can do is always bring a towel. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring one, so here we are.

[Look, I know it sucks I got zapped here with you. If we start swapping again I’ll do my best not to mess your life up. However, you have to stop and think for a minute: how do you think I’ll feel if I never see my friends again? Discord’ could be imposing a new reign of terror over my loved ones and I’m not there to stop him.]

You’re right. . . Sorry, I just get the feeling the next couple days are going to be really horrible.

[With that attitude they will be. Now, tell your boss you’re sick, I bet they’ll understand.]

I picked up the phone and, sure enough, the music had stopped playing. “This is Melody, department head of Human Resources, department of nursing supervisor, and board member of the Springfield Community Trauma and Medical Surgery Center. How may I help you?”

[Wow, what a stupid title.]

On Earth, your value as a human being is determined by the length of your title.

[What’s your title?]

Usually it’s ‘hey, you’ or ‘just a nurse.’ Occasionally, ‘pecker checker’ or something else witty.

“Hey, it’s Don. I’m too sick to work and need to cash in a couple sick days,” I explained.

“Ahuh, and are you too sick to get paid?”

“I don’t follow.”

“We only have two nurses scheduled to cover twenty beds in our ER, and you’re one of them. So, if you’re too sick to work you must be too sick to get paid, because you’ll be out of a job,” Melody replied.

[Wow, what a bitch.]

“You wouldn’t dare. We both know I can’t come to work with pink eye. It’s highly contagious and would threaten patient health. I could report you for forcing me to work with a contagious disease. I need this time off.”

“Is that so? Well then, come in and show me your pink eye and I’ll consider it.”

[I think we need to come up with a better plan. I’ve never seen such a heartless person.]

You got any bright ideas?

I stifled a groan as I rolled my eyes. I could rub some shampoo in my eye, but if she wanted me to get seen by a doctor I wouldn’t fool anyone. “You’re seriously going to be that childish? I’d be back at work inside a week if you fired me.”

“You may have a little pull with people in the hospital, but it’d still go in your employment history, and I could still screw with your schedule until you go crawling to an urgent care, begging for a job with better hours.”

“You fucking bitch,” I said.

“. . . I’ll see you when your shift starts in twenty minutes, or I’m writing you up and docking your pay.” The phone clicked as she hung up.

I threw my cell phone across the room, then hit the salad on the table. It spilled all over the floor as I stomped over to the couch and fell backwards onto it.

[Wow, no offense, but I thought you were an asshole. Now I think you’re some kind of saint. How can people be such dicks on your world?]

Imagine if you had dozens of Celestias, each one a boss of another boss, who is the boss of a boss who is eventually your boss. And they’re all assholes. They have the power to make us do whatever they say.

[Then you should quit.]

I wish I could, but money doesn’t grow on trees. I’ve got bills to pay, and mouths to feed. . .

The apartment was silent for a moment. I glanced around, half-expecting Pinkie to jump out and finish singing the song I had just quoted. Finally, I looked behind the sofa and sighed.

[Yeah, I kinda expected her to pop out too. Would have made getting back a lot easier.]

So, what now? I’d rather not lose my job or get in another shouting match with my boss. She’s cut the nursing staff in half this year to save money on her damn budget.

[Hey, it’ll be like in Equestria: you just work and if I get control you can tell me what to do! I’m already learning all sorts of stuff about medicine from poking around in your brain.]

It’s not the medicine I’m worried about. There are far worse things that go on in an ER than calculating medication doses.

[Pfft, come on, I’m Rainbow Fucking Dash, I can handle this!]

I laughed loudly, drawing a curious cat out from under the sofa. He meowed when I stopped laughing, so I petted him. My job was something that’d be a pain in the ass to replace, especially while worrying about the pony in my body. It was an easy decision to go to work, and in the worst case get sent home sick when Dash did a few medical procedures wrong. After all, it wouldn’t hurt me one bit.

Being one to routinely sleep in, I had gotten efficient at getting ready for work in a hurry. I paid a visit to the restroom to relieve myself, which had never felt so good. I shaved, threw a little deodorant on, and combed my hair. That was when I noticed something that I could swear wasn’t there before: one of my eyes was no longer green, it was violet. I wanted to call it magenta, to acknowledge one of my eyes had decided to join Team Dash, but I refused.

[Hey, your eye is the same color as mine!]

Dammit, Dash! I was trying to ignore that. . . Eyes don’t just change color. Not without injury or some really fucked up genetic experiments. Tell me about how you met Twilight, I want to make sure our memories aren’t getting worse.

[I met her at the Summer Sun Celebration. Nightmare Moon returned, and out of nowhere Twilight shows up and challenges her. I chased after Twilight because she was a spy.]

Okay, good. That’s how I remember it too. So we’re safe for now.

With my hygiene vastly improved, I threw on some scrubs because I was running late, and frankly, I was too lazy to change at work. After all, what’s the point of stealing scrubs from the hospital to have at home, if not to sleep in them, roll out of bed, and proceed directly to work?

As I approached my car I stopped to check my mail. I tossed the advertisements in the trash and headed to my car with my bills. After opening the door I tossed the bills on the passenger seat. That was when I saw it. A letter from the RIAA.

“Dammit, Pinkie,” I muttered. I tore the letter up, trying to control my breathing as I fumed over the RIAA’s far-reaching power and ability to detect and sue anyone for anything, anywhere, given proper incentive.

I sat in the driver’s seat and realized our next problem.

Okay, Dash, if we do the control switch thing, I need to make sure you understand: Gas to go faster on the right, brake in the middle, clutch on the left. If you get control, just slam that middle pedal as hard as you can so we don’t die in a fiery explosion.

[Hahahaha, good one, Dude. I’ve never seen a metal carriage before.]

It’s not a joke!

[Wait, you mean you really use machines to get around, airplanes, tanks, and all that stuff I’ve caught you thinking about?]

Yeah, we have a machine for everything on Earth. Probably because we have no magic. This one weighs several tons and travels about eighty miles per hour, or like a tenth of how fast you fly to break the sound barrier.

[Eh, not bad, I suppose. So, in the event of an unexpected switch in control I should scream like a school filly and slam the brakes? This is gonna be fun!]

I climbed in the car and started it, putting it into gear and driving off. The radio played some rock ‘n’ roll, which was a godsend after having nothing to listen to for three days. I began to zone out as I drove, letting instinct and force of habit guide me down the familiar roads to work.

You’re taking this a whole lot better than I did when I landed in your body.

[I’m sorta used to it. And besides, Lyra’s gonna freak out when I tell her about it.]

She’s the odd one who is fascinated by fantasy novels about humans?

[The one and only. Majored in music with a minor in creative writing. Hasn’t gotten a book published yet, but she keeps trying. She’s been working on this one romance about vampires, werewolves, and humans.]

For fuck sake. . . Look, when we get back I’ll help her write something that isn’t shit.

[How do you know it’s bad? She hasn’t even finished it yet.]

Trust me, some things are true no matter what dimension you’re in, and that’s one of them. Just promise not to let her abduct me and chain me up in her basement on the off-chance my body comes back to Equestria with you.

[And miss out on using you as my personal slave? All those free massages? If you come back to Equestria as a human she’ll have to beat me to the punch if she wants you in her basement.]

Quit teasing, it was a joke. Seriously, I plan to stay here on Earth, free from crazed mares chaining me up like a toy.

[Your choice, but you’re missing out. I could be very rewarding to an obedient human sex slave.]

This is for all the trouble I caused you with my smart ass remarks, isn’t it?

[Eeyup! Payback is a bitch. Haha, I’ll cut it out though. I wouldn’t want to run out of jokes, your day is just getting started!]

God, shoot me now.

Before an all-powerful being in the sky could chamber a round in his remington, I arrived at work. Parking the car in patient parking—just to piss Melody off—I then hurried inside to the ER.

Of course Melody would be waiting there to chide me. I was only three minutes late, and that’s after being sent to another dimension. As luck would have it, Dash took control of my body as we walked through the sliding doors.

Dash hadn’t been expecting a switch, as we’d had no indication yet if it’d even happen here on Earth. I felt both my legs freeze, but my body continued to move forward.

[Hands, Dash, hands!]

She was confused, managing only at the last second in our fall to land on an elbow. Dash struggled to read my mind on how to walk, but it was not really something you teach a person to do. I tried to picture it in my mind for her, recalling how quickly I’d caught on to pony walking.

“Are you kidding me? You came to work drunk, Don?” Melody said.

“I’m not drunk, I tripped! I swear, Celestia would send you to the moon for being such an ass,” Dash said.

[Heh, I’d pay to see that.]

Dash stood up and looked her in the eye. It took a moment for her to stop swaying, but luckily she was catching on quickly. “Now, Melody, I’m here to work.”

“Yes, I suppose I won’t be firing you or docking your pay. Your pink eye on the other hand is nothing but a contact lens,” Melody mocked.

“What?” Dash said. “Oh, that. Well, it’s not every morning you wake up with a new eye color.”

“Just cut the crap and get to work,” she ordered.

“Geez, who rammed that stick up your ass?” a nearby doctor said. As he walked over, I saw it was Anthony. “Beat it, Melody, or I’ll send you to the OR as an emergent case to have it removed.”

Melody huffed, and walked away.

“Thanks,” Dash said. I was lucky that Anthony had been nearby to pull my ass out of the fire. Now I could sit back and watch Dash learn to walk. She was staring at our feet and walking in a small circle. Dash realized the doctor was giving us an odd look.

Who is he?

[A doctor with enough common sense to tell Melody when she needs to fuck off. He’s not her boss, per say, but she has no authority over the doctors.]

Seems like a handy guy to have around.

“Whoa, Don, what happened to your eye?” Anthony asked.

“Oh, I just woke up and it was like this,” Dash explained.

“I’ve never seen complete heterochromia before, much less spontaneously. Did you injure your eye or catch something?” he asked.

“I caught a wet paint brush covered in fuchsia paint with my eye, but other than that, nope.”

He laughed and pat Dash on the back, guiding her into the ER. “That’s what I love about you: you’ve got a smart-ass remark to everything. Just take it easy on her, it’s the end of the fiscal year and you know how she loves to mess with the budget.”

“Sure. So, uh, what do I do?” Dash asked.

“Well, I guess you can start by disimpacting a patient’s bowel in room four. If you can’t get it out with the enemas, let me know. But be sure to do everything you can so I don’t have to get my hands covered in shit.”

[Of course that’s the first patient I get today. We can still leave, you know. Maybe losing this job isn’t so bad.]

I’m sure that’s worse than it sounds. Applejack says she gives her grandmother enemas from time to time.

[Granny Smith? No—oh god, I can’t get that image out of our head! That’s way too much information!]

“Uh, any others?” Dash asked.

“Well, I could let you place sutures on a little girl in room two for me. I’ve got three women with abdominal pain and am using the other nurse to do the pelvic exams. They pulled an LPN from county hospital to do triage for us.”

[Great, so they’re going to use a glorified vital signs technician to triage patients. Yep, this day is officially the worst day ever.]

Hmm, I don’t like the sound of either of those. You sure I can do this stuff to the patients?

[The hardest part is knowing what to do. I’m sure we can work slowly and make it through a single shift.]

“Alright. I’ll go do the bowel thingy first.”

Dash walked over to room four, which was conveniently labeled on the wall with a large, red four. She pushed the door open and walked in.

Whoa, it smells like death in here!

[Yeah, it’s either old person smell or gas.]

I thought they were constipated or something.

[Check that metal chart, right there.]

Dash opened it up and began scanning the page, reading the various notes on it.

This doesn’t make much sense. You’ll have to help me out.

[She’s eighty years old, had a colonoscopy and a few polyps removed. Looks like she got treatment just in time to avoid dying a horribly painful death from colon cancer. Unfortunately, she’s got post-op constipation which will painfully kill her if we don’t clean it out.]

Whoa. Well, let’s help her out then. What do I do first?

[Wash your hands and put on gloves. I’ll guide you through the rest as you do it.]

Dash played around with the sink and soap dispenser until figuring out how to operate them. She wasn’t used to the fingers, and kept trying to do things with my palms. Eventually she finished and dried our hands, and put some nitril gloves on.

“You’ve done this before?” the woman asked.

“Of course! My name is Rainbow Dash, what’s yours?” she replied.

“It’s Susie. It’s always nice to meet a young person who can embrace their feminine side.”

Feminine side?

[Because you said my name is Rainbow Dash, probably.]

Crap, did I?

[Yeah, drop it and move on.]

“Anyway, I’m just going to go over here—”

[Grab that kit, and that applicator.]

“—and pull out this. . . Okay, I need you to lay on your side.” Dash helped her roll over and lifted up the patient gown.

Whoa, her skin is so saggy.

[Be mature. Just open the box and prepare the enema. Insert that there, and push that.]

“Okay, you’ll feel a little pressure,” Dash explained. She took the bottle and lubricated it, before inserting it into Susie. Dash squeezed the fluid out until the enema was complete. “Alright, now you just wait ten minutes and it should all come out.”

“You sure, Mr. Rainbow Dash?” she asked, still assuming that was my name.

“Yeah.”

“Because it feels. . . it—”

[Hit the deck!]

Dash gasped in horror as all hell broke loose. She was still leaning over on the bed, and the first blast of the most foul substance known to man flew out, hitting my favorite watch. It began to seep inside our gloves as she stumbled backward.

[Get an emesis basin, that drawer, hurry!]

She crawled over, my hands making a wet plopping sound. Upon opening the drawer, she found nothing inside it.

It’s empty!

[Fucking LPNs must not have restocked before going home!]

How about this?

We heard another loud noise and Dash wisely chose not to look.

[That’s a kidney basin! That’ll never work!]

Where are the bigger basins?

[Quick, just grab the trash can!]

Dash got to her feet and ran over to the bright red biohazard trash can. She dragged it over to the bed as the woman moaned in discomfort. A week’s worth of vile sewage was seeping out, and she could not hold back the black tide.

With the large trash can next to the bed, she yanked the lid off. Dash had to grab the woman and slide her towards the can. “Alright, you can let go now!”

[No! Not yet!]

Dash realized her mistake and jumped backwards, barely avoiding the splash zone. Susie let herself go, and Dash ran like hell, slamming the door shut behind as she left. She saw the bathroom down the hall and ran into it.

Holy shit, that was horrible!

[As far as enemas go, that wasn’t the worst I’ve ever done. Wanna hear about it?]

No! Please, show mercy! Seriously, if you do that for a living you deserve a massive gold medal!

I laughed, glad at least one person understood the living hell that was caring for the sick and injured. Yet, I still did it as it felt good to have helped someone. I may be wearing a brown layer of Susie on my forearms, but I had saved her from a potentially fatal medical condition.

So, uh, what now?

She looked over my body and I instructed her to just throw the watch away. Even if I cleaned it, I couldn’t wear it in good conscience knowing where it had been. Dash followed my advice and threw the gloves away, washing my arms from the elbow down. We were lucky not to have gotten it on our scrubs or on our hair.

[And now the best part.]

What’s that?

[We make the LPN clean it up.]

You’re evil! Why do you get to boss LPN’s around?

[They take a year or so of training, sometimes vocational schools, and are trained to do the most basic jobs. I went to four years of college, got a bachelors, registered as a nurse, and nearly have my masters. Basically, I own him.]

Doesn’t that make you no different than your boss?

[Hey, the expression ‘shit rolls downhill’ was made for a reason. We all make the people lower on the ladder than us do the shitty jobs. . . unless you really want to go back in there and mop that mess up.]

On second thought, screw the LPN. I guess it’s the same as when I make Thunderlane put the morning dew on all the flowers in Ponyville. Everypony hates that job.

[Now you’re getting it. I’ll make a human out of you in no time. Heck, with some beer and some titties I bet you’ll be asking Celestia to move to Earth.]

Dash walked up to the triage room, where she found the LPN browsing his Facebook. He looked at us with indifference. “What do you want?” he asked.

“What the heck is that?” Dash pointed to the computer screen.

“It’s Facebook, grandpa.”

[You can send messages no one cares about to your friends, like what you’re eating, and you can post pictures of it.]

“Sounds pretty retarded,” Dash observed. “I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is room four needs to be cleaned. Take some extra towels. The good news is, I don’t have to clean it.”

“You can’t boss me around,” he said and crossed his arms.

“Pretty sure I have a nursing degree that says I can. Now unless you want to get kicked out of the department and sent home without pay, get your ass in gear.”

He grumbled and got up to clean the room.

That was awesome! Being a jerk is kind of addictive.

[Yeah, I’m a little worried you’re turning into me. Back on Equestria I was starting to turn nice, and here you’re doing the opposite. I wonder how long we have left.]

Hmm, I wonder what Twilight would say about this.

[Probably some egghead thing we wouldn’t understand.]

Haha, yeah. You know, this being-a-nurse thing isn’t so bad. It’s nice and quiet.

[Damn it! Never say an ER is quiet!]

As we were about to sit down at the computer, we heard the doors to the ER burst open. Two paramedics came in with a person on a stretcher.

[Whelp, here we go. Follow them!]

Dash jumped up and managed not to trip on her way out of the triage room. She followed them into the trauma bay. “What’s going on?”

The nearby paramedic turned and started to give her a report. “Thirty-seven year old male, found unconscious after an unknown amount of alcohol and tylenol. We saved the pill bottles from the scene. It was called in by a neighbor. We don’t have any medical history on him.”

They lifted him and slid him over to the trauma bed. “Uh. . . can you grab the doc for me?”

“Sure thing, Don,” the paramedic said.

You know him?

[His team stops by here often, so sorta. Now I get to guide you through some fun procedures! Oh Celestia have mercy on this drunk.]

Dash went over and started pulling out an assortment of tubes and tools. I directed her on how to lubricate an ewald tube to do a gastric lavage. She covered the end in surgi-lube and pushed it up against his nose.

Really? Just jam it in there?

[Well, not hard, but yeah. Push it in.]

Dash slid it in and smiled, realizing it was pretty easy. Then the patient moaned and started to gag as it went down his throat. She was almost a step ahead of my instructions as she grabbed a portable suction unit. Mercifully, he didn’t vomit all over us, and Dash was able to hook him up to a wall mounted suction unit without incident. I directed her in how to flush some saline into his stomach and pump it out a few times.

“Don, what’s going on?” Anthony asked as he walked in and began assessing the patient.

“Overdose, alcohol and tylenol. He’s a, uh. . . thirty-something man or something,” Dash repeated.

“Cath him and get blood to the lab.”

Huh?

[Stick a needle in his vein.]

Dash dumped an assortment of blood tubes, needles, and vacutainers out on the table next to us. I directed her to the IVs and had her unwrap one of them and rub alcohol all over the patient’s arm. It took her four tries to place a latex tourniquet on it, as she kept accidently tying one of our fingers into it.

[Now, you just feel for one of those squishy veins, and stick a needle in it. Right there!]

Dash did her best and stabbed the needle into his arm, causing a small convulsion. Blood flashed back into the needle and stopped. She had gone through the vein.

[No big deal, pull back slowly.]

She yanked the needle out, causing blood to pour out of the small puncture wound.

Oops.

[Ignore it and grab another, it’s not as bad as it looks.]

She tossed the needle into the trash can.

[Wrong trash! That has to go in the sharp—]

Quiet! I can’t concentrate!

With her attention split, the patient was making a bloody mess of the bed sheets that looked like something out of a Hollywood horror movie. Dash pushed a piece of gauze on the bleeding hole in his arm, as she lined up the needle to try and go into the vein. This time she poked a few times and was nearly in the vein, when the patient twitched.

“Shit, Don,” Mark said. The other nurse had walked in the room and saw me, or more accurately Dash, trying to start an IV and draw blood. “Work on the cath and I’ll start a line. Unless your goal was to use his arm as a pin cushion.”

“Haha, shut up,” Dash quipped.

[Well, at least you can’t mess this up. The hole is already there. The kit is in that drawer.]

Dash pulled out the urinary cath tray and opened it, switching out her dirty gloves for new sterile gloves. I directed her to lay out the supplies and prepare to place the tube. She glanced up and saw the Doctor ordering meds and sending Mark to get them. The IV was already flowing and Mark had already drawn blood.

Damn, he’s fast.

[He can do an IV in ten—]

—seconds flat. God, that’s getting old, Dude.

I told Dash how to lubricate the catheter and she did, getting some of the lube on both hands. With the catheter ready, I directed her to firmly grasp his penis. Dash went to grab it, but it slipped out of her hand. The glove was already covered in the lube and it was a futile effort.

[Just stop and switch gloves.]

No, I got this.

Dash kept pulling and grabbing at his manhood. Slowly but surely she thought she was making progress, as it was getting straighter and easier to grip. Finally, she was able to start inserting the tube inside of him.

“Damn, for a moment there I thought you were jerking him off,” Anthony said.

She looked down horrified and I tried to facepalm from inside my own brain. Dash had, in fact, given the drunk a hard-on.

[Just jam the tube in and let me save the last of my dignity.]

The tube slid in and urine started to shoot out the other end.

[For fuck’s sake, put the urine collector on first!]

You didn’t tell me to do that!

[I thought it was common sense!]

We managed to collect the tubing, only spilling about half of the vodka-scented urine all over the mattress. Dash sighed in relief, and inflated the balloon at the end of the catheter. With it fully inflated, the tube would not slip or get pulled out.

“Don, you sure you’re okay?” Anthony asked. “You seem shaky and uncertain.”

“Huh? Yeah, I think so,” Dash replied.

“Look, Mark and I can take it from here. Clean up and do the sutures for me, that should be nice and calm.”

Dash smiled and I watched as we left the room and cleaned up. We were both still excited from the adrenaline rush, but were beginning to calm down. She headed over to room two and I began explaining suturing to her.

[Second door on the left. We’re just going to pull a small aluminum package of 4-0 prolene out. The needle and string are already attached. She’s not gonna like it, so we’ll draw some lidocaine up to numb it. Have you ever sewn before?]

No, I make Rarity do it.

[Well, she’s not here, so you’re about to put those fingers to good use.]

Dash walked into the room with her supplies in hand and didn’t miss a beat. “Hello, I’m Don,” she said.

[Good work, you remembered my name.]

“Hi, this is Lauren,” the mother explained. “She cut her hand on the slide in our back yard.”

Dash seemed more comfortable around the child, kneeling down to speak to her. “Hey there, Lauren, did you hurt your hand?”

She nodded, but remained turned to the side, shielding her cut hand.

“Can I take a look? I promise it won’t hurt.”

[You liar, it always hurts.]

Shut up, I’m just doing what you told me!

[Sorry, still a little worked up over that drunk.]

Yeah, me too. Plus that LPN and Melody. You put up with a lot of shit.

“Okay,” Lauren said. She turned over, revealing a bloody wash cloth. Her actual hand had stopped bleeding, the cut being only an inch long. Before Dash could clean the wound or think of suturing it closed, she saw a toy in her right hand.

It was a four-inch tall action figure. It had a rainbow mane and tale, and cyan blue fur. It was made of a glossy plastic, and came complete with rainbow lightning bolts shooting from a cloud on each flank.

[What the hell?]

Dash took a step back. “Where’d you get that?” she asked.

“Mommy got it for me. Rainbow Dash is my favorite!” Lauren cheered up when she got to talk about her toy. “She’s the fastest flyer in Equestria!”

“How do you know that?!” Dash shouted.

“Excuse me, do not raise your voice to my daughter,” her mother said.

[Easy, Dash, I’m shocked too but—]

“No! My life isn’t some fucking toy line! Where did she get that doll? Tell me or I’ll beat it out of you!” Dash screamed. Lauren started crying as we backed her mother into a corner. “Tell me!”

“S-sorry! It w-was on s-sell at the s-store. It’s her f-favorite show—”

“Don!” Melody shouted. “What the hell is going on here?” She stood with the LPN, who apparently had gone and ratted us out.

“You little shit-stain! You seriously tattled on me?!” Dash shouted. She marched towards him, and Melody stepped between us.

“What are you on, Don? LSD? Alcohol? Weed? I want you out of my hospital right now! You’ll be lucky to keep your job after assaulting a patient!”

“I’m not high! That kid has a doll of me. Of me, Rainbow Dash! This isn’t physically possible, and yet here I am in another dimension where I’m a damn toy!” Dash screamed.

Melody turned to the LPN and whispered. “Call a code grey and get security down here.” He walked away to get help.

Dash continued to rant. “Give me that!” She walked over and yanked the toy out of Lauren’s hand.

[Calm down, you’re going to get us locked up in prison, and we’ll never get back!]

Isn’t it obvious? This is all some trick by Discord! He’s watching us, laughing right now!

[No, this is my life, Dash!]

An ear-piercing scream echoed through the ER. Melody and Dash turned towards the source, and not five seconds later the drunk ran around the corner. His clothes had been removed during the trauma exam, and he was now nude. In his hand he held a messy urinary catheter, trailing the collection bag behind it.

Blood dripped onto the floor from the wound where he had violently ripped the catheter out of his bladder. His nose bled from where he had ripped the gastric tube out. If he had run this far, he had likely knocked one or both of my co-workers out. Furthermore, his outburst was indicative of narcotics or some other illegal substance.

The drunk charged at Melody like a linebacker getting ready to flatten an opponent.

[God dammit! Dash, tackle him!]

There was a brief hesitation, but Dash changed her footing and dived at him. At the last second, we collided, throwing him down to the ground with our weight. We had just saved Melody from a justly-deserved ass-kicking.

The drunk started flailing around, and Dash struggled to stay on top of him. Finally, security arrived and helped us pin him down, and then strap him to a bed so he could not hurt himself or others.

Once the brawl was over, Melody turned to the guards. “Now, I’ll need you to escort Don out of the hospital.”

“What?” Dash shouted.

“Yes, Melody, why are you sending my nurse home?” Anthony asked. “Security, you can leave. My nurse will most definitely not be escorted out. Instead, take that LPN with you. We’re better off without him.”

Melody glared at Anthony, before nodding to the guards. They left with the LPN and Melody, leaving one guard behind to keep an eye on the drunk a little longer.

“Don, what the hell is going on today?” Anthony asked.

“I honestly have no clue anymore,” Dash replied.

“Look, I’ll call in a few favors and find someone to cover your shifts for the next couple days. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to draw some blood and make sure you’re okay. If there’s a disease or genetic cause to your. . . ‘episode’ and eye color, I’ll let you know.”

[Look, apologize to the girl and the doc will take a look at us and hopefully smooth things over, okay?]

Dash sighed and nodded. She turned and handed the toy back to the little girl, who was afraid to reach out and take it back. “I’m sorry, Lauren. If Rainbow Dash were here, I know she’d be really happy to have such an awesome fan.”

“I-it’s okay,” Lauren replied. Her mother continued to glare at me, and Dash smiled weakly before leaving.

I followed Anthony into the triage room. Mark was already setting up to draw some blood. While he collected samples to send to the lab, I tried to calm Dash down.

How could a kid have toys of me? This is some trick, I know it!

[Relax. Look, I don’t know more than you do, but getting thrown in jail won’t solve anything.]

Am I even real? Maybe you’re just insane and I’m a toy!

[Hell no! You’re as real as I am. I don’t know how, but I promise I’ll fix this.]

“Okay, you’re all set,” Mark said. “I need to know honestly, are you on anything?”

“What? No. I’m not doing drugs. Everypony knows drugs are for losers,” Dash said.

[Ugh, yeah, ponies. Doesn’t make me sound crazy at all.]

“Whatever. . . just get some sleep, man. You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Dash replied. She got up and walked out of the ER and to my car.

[You good to drive?]

I’ll take it slow, it wasn’t that hard.

She got in and started the engine, stalling it immediately.

[Press the clutch and give it more gas before trying to start it.]

On the second try she got it moving, and began to drive to my house. Luckily I only lived a few minutes away, because Dash wasn’t nearly the driver she thought she was. Then again, she had me screaming and backseat driving.

We made it home without running anyone over, swerving through traffic, or violating more than a dozen traffic safety laws. Already I felt exhausted, and I had spent most of the day passively observing.

[How is it you’re in control so long?]

Because Pinkie Pie.

[Haha. No really, was I in control this much in Equestria?]

Hmm, yeah, I think so. I don’t remember though.

[You’re having trouble remembering, or you literally can not remember?]

It’s a little blurry, nothing to worry about.

Dash walked into my bathroom and noticed the bath tub.

A bath would feel amazing right now.

She turned on the hot water and threw all my clothes on the ground as the water heated up. When Dash stepped into the tub, I could feel her relief. My feet had gotten very sore, and Dash was not used to that feeling. Her hooves were much better suited to supporting her weight for long periods of time.

Dash slid into the hot bath water until it was up to our neck, and sighed.

I feel like I could melt right now.

[Yeah.]

She looked down for the soap and chuckled.

[What’s so funny?]

You remember that whole speech about once in a lifetime opportunities? Well, it looks like I’ve got a one right between your legs.

[. . . Fuck.]

Author's Notes:

All medical stories are real. Names changed to protect the guilty. I lost a watch to an enema (granted that's why we wear the $10 watches.) A nurse I work with caused a patient to... climax, while failing miserably to start a urinary catheter (and we never let her hear the end of it. It was his moaning that gave it away.) During my shift, I'm at the front desk and a drunk we brought in and cath'd ran out of the room, bleeding and carrying the catheter he ripped out.

Oh, and the most incredible: We had a little girl with a cut on her hand. True story!

If it's any consolation, there will be no more poop jokes.