Best Friend Screw Loose

Doc Stable stepped into the little white room where they kept the problem patients sometimes. It was terrifically dull with its whitewashed walls and flickering fluorescent lights, but it was, when you got right down to it, safe for both doctor and patient. Very much like a prison, but there was no helping that. He took a seat in front of the shatterproof glass and pressed the button on the intercom. “Hello Screw Loose,” he said, using his calmest, most even tone. “How are we doing today?”

The cyan mare on the opposite side said something in response. Doc Stable wasn’t quite sure what. He could have heard her, of course, if he'd turned on her microphone from his panel, but he preferred to leave his patients some privacy. The hospital had a tendency to get intrusive at times.  

“Screw Loose,” he said. “Listen carefully to what I’m about to tell you.” She snapped rigidly to attention. Positive reinforcement had helped her to realize that she should Listen Carefully when told to do so. Praise when she listened, no praise when she didn’t. Basic psychology, but it worked like a charm. “There is a big red button in front of you. Do you see it? Nod your head if yes. Shake it if no.”

She scanned the table in front of her. In short order, her eyes brightened and she started nodding like wild. Of course she saw the button. It was the only thing there, beside her microphone and speaker. Impossible to miss.

“Good job, Screw Loose,” said Doc Stable. “Great work. Now, do you see the microphone too? Nod if yes. Shake if no.”

She nodded again, a grin wide on her face. She looked so proud of herself for seeing that microphone.

And that was good. Basic self-realization was a sign of improvement.

“Excellent, Screw Loose. Now, listen carefully: press the button and speak into the microphone when you want to say something to me.”

She slammed her hoof down on the button and looked at him for approval.

“Yes, Screw Loose,” Doc Stable said patiently. “Keep going.”

Screw Loose leaned her head over to the microphone and spoke.

On the other side of glass, the Doc’s speaker crackled: “Meow.”

“Are we a cat today, Screw Loose?”

“Kitty,” she told him, her hoof still on the button. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to have it pressed unless she wanted to say something, but he decided against it. It was important that they stay on exactly one topic at a time. Even if it was cats.

He took his hoof off his own button and sighed. He hated cats. Horrible, nasty things they were. Got hairballs all over the place. He could have sworn he’d mentioned his thoughts on felines to Screw Loose at one point or another. Was she doing this to spite him, or...?

More purring noises crackled out of his speaker. No, silly him. Of course it wasn’t spite. She was just being Screw Loose.

“That’s wonderful, Screw Loose. You’re a very good kitty. But what I need you to be is a pony right now, so we can talk. Can you be a pony for me?”

“Meow.”

A nurse stepped in. The tiny intern filly who’d only just been hired. Doc Stable wished he could remember her name. It was Nurse — something. Something or other.

“They sent me to check up,” the nurse squeaked. “Is she being un — un — unco-operative?”

“No, it’s fine,” said Doc Stable. “You just have to be patient with her.”

“Meow mow wow wow...” blared the speaker. He shuddered. Stupid cats. Screw Loose’s impressions were always too darned close to the real thing.

He pressed the button again. “Screw Loose, listen carefully. You will not be allowed to leave this room until you can talk to me like a pony. Do you understand.”

Screw Loose hissed. Through the hospital-quality speaker, it sounded like static.

“Are you sure she’s not being unco-operative?” the little nurse asked.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay...”

They waited for a while, there in that room. There was silence, save for Screw Loose. She still had her hoof pressed hard on that button, letting the odd yowling sound out into her microphone. Her other hoof she used to beat on the table. Poor thing. She wanted out. Doc Stable hoped she’d realize soon that the only way she’d get it would be to settle down and speak with him. It almost hurt to see her like this.

“They said they could get you the shock sticks if she gets too crazy to talk,” the nurse suggested.

Rooooooooowr

Doc Stable rubbed his temples. Occasionally the hospital staff managed to be more infuriating than the patients. “They don’t know what they’re talking about, and if I find out who they are, there are going to be consequences. Let me tell you, miss...”

“Nursery Rhyme, sir.”

Owwwwwwwwww

“Right. Sorry, my fault. Nursery Rhyme. Let me tell you, miss Nursery Rhyme: medicine has made a lot of progress in the last hundred years. We are past the point of treating our patients like animals... even if they decide they want to act like them. We do not use the shock sticks unless there is absolutely no other option.”

“But...”

“No butts except for the gluteus. Repeat after me: patients are ponies too.”

Meroooooooow

“Patients are ponies too,” Nursery Rhyme mumbled, looking thoroughly ashamed. “But what do we do if she doesn’t want to talk?”

“We wait,” Doc Stable said simply. “She’ll come around soon.”

They waited. Complete silence. The speaker had stopped making cat noises.

Eventually it started back up again, this time the voice belonged to Screw Loose’s. Not a kitty. “I’m a pony now.”

“Fantastic, Screw Loose,” Doc Stable said. He winked at Nursery Rhyme. “Much faster than last time. Are we ready to talk?”

She nodded enthusiastically in reponse, her ragged gray mane flying everywhere. “Ye-es.”

“And this is where it gets tricky,” said Doc Stable to Nursery Rhyme. “Don’t say anything. Just watch. You might learn something.” He spoke into the microphone. “How do you like your new room, Screw Loose?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t.”

“Screw Loose, listen carefully...”

“Don’t like it.”

“Thank you. Why don’t you like it?”

“Too small.”

“Do you understand why you were moved from your bigger room?”

She shook her head. No, she didn’t. Or she didn’t want to admit that she did.

“Two days ago,” said Doc Stable, “there was some trouble with a pony who snuck into the hospital. Do you remember this, Screw Loose?”

She nodded.

“And did you leave the hospital when this happened?”

She shook her head.

“Tell the truth, Screw Loose. It’s good to tell the truth. Did you leave the hospital?”

“Didn’t do nothing,” she said defensively.

She’d done it, of course. Doc Stable had seen her himself, running around outside and barking like mad. But still she denied it. Like a foal with crumbs on her mouth swearing to Celestia that she’d never once been in the cookie jar. Only... not a foal. A full-grown mare. Moments like these, Doc Stable decided, were what made his job hardest.

“Screw Loose.”

“Didn’t do nothing.”

“I’m only asking you to be honest with me...”

“Didn't do nothing!” she shouted. “Didn't. Do. Nothing.”

She got up on the table and threw herself against the glass. It held, just as it had been designed to do, and she bounced right off of it. Her mouth seemed to be open in a scream, but with her hoof off the button, it couldn’t be heard from the Doc’s side of the room. All he could do was watch as she got back up and threw herself against it. Again and again and again.

And again.

“What’s wrong with her?” Nursery Rhyme whispered.

“It’s none of your concern,” Doc Stable snapped. Then he realized what he’d said. “No, sorry. That’s my fault again. I apologize. Could you be a dear and go get me a teddy bear? Preferably a Get-Well with a heart, but any will do.”

“Yes, sir.”

She came back five minutes later, carrying a teddy bear with “Get Well” embossed in gold on its chest. In its little stuffed paws was a little stuffed heart.

“Thank you, nurse,” he said. “Now let’s hope this works.”

He held the bear up to the glass and pressed the button. “Screw Loose. Listen carefully: see the bear?”

She Listened Carefully, stopping her tantrum for just long enough to see the bear and realize that she wanted it. She pointed a hoof at the bear. Her mouth moved.

“The button, Screw Loose.”  

Her hoof went down on the button. “Bear,” she said. “Grrrrrr.”

“You’re not a bear, Screw Loose. You’re a pony. Be a pony for me.”

“Bear!” She roared.

“If you promise to be a good pony, you can have it.”

“Pony.”

Doc Stable gave the bear back to Nursery Rhyme. “Could you take this to her, please?”

Screw Loose’s eyes followed the Get-Well bear carefully as Nursery Rhyme took it up and left the room. “Where’d bear go?” she demanded. “Promised!”

“Shhh,” he said soothingly. “It’s coming.”

A slot opened up in the wall to her left. Present there was brand new Get-Well teddy bear with a little stuffed heart.

“To your left, Screw Loose,” said Doc Stable.

She looked right.

“Other way.”

She looked left and in the blink of an eye, the bear was cuddled safely in her hooves.

“Delivered, Doctor Stable,” said Nursery Rhyme, who’d just walked back in. “Are you sure...?”

“See for yourself,” said Doc Stable. “Does she look calmer to you?”

Screw Loose was cradling the bear now, her lips moving softly. Doc Stable’s best guess was that she was singing to it. Maybe — heh —  a nursery rhyme. She didn’t look like crazy old Screw Loose right then. She looked almost... normal.

“I guess she does,” said Nursery Rhyme.

“Did it require any shock sticks?”

“I guess not.”

“Thanks for bear,” came Screw Loose’s voice through the speaker. Somehow, her hoof had found its way onto the button without any help. “Best friends, Doc.”

“Doc?” asked Nursery Rhyme.

“She calls me Doc,” said Doc Stable. To Screw Loose, he said. “You’re welcome, Screw Loose. You can name it if you want.”

“Get Well,” said Screw Loose. She pointed at the letters on its chest.

“Of course. We’ll call it Get Well.” He refrained from pointing out that she had a dozen other bears named Get Well. No need to burst that particular bubble.

“Get Well,” she repeated, snuggling it up against her face.

Doc Stable settled down in his chair for a bit. He sighed. Crisis averted. Day saved. It was tiring work, all of this, but rewarding. Moments like these, he decided, were what made his job worth it.

“So what now?” asked Nursery Rhyme.

“We wait,” he said. “Give her some time to cool off.”

“There’s a lot of waiting, isn’t there?”

He shrugged. There was. Nothing left to say about it.

After ten minutes or so, he pressed the button. “Are we ready to talk again, Screw Loose?”

Screw Loose spared enough attention from her bear to look up and put a hoof on the button. “Ye-es.”

“Are you sure, Screw Loose?”

She nodded.

“You said I’m your best friend, right?”

She nodded.

“So you’re going to be honest with me?”

She nodded.

“Then have you ever left the hospital without being given permission?”

She shook her head.

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Not even two days ago?”

“Not even.”

Doc Stable sighed. Well, that was that. For now, at any rate. If she didn’t want to admit it just yet, there was nothing he could do about it.

Short of the shock sticks, of course.

“All right, Screw Loose,” he said. “Best friends trust each other. Just remember that it’s good to tell the truth.”

“Will remember” Screw Loose muttered. She squeezed her bear tight.

“I’m going to leave now, Screw Loose. A nurse will come and take you to your room.”

“The small one?”

“If you’re a good pony until next time, we can see about moving you to the bigger one, okay?”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Bye, bye, Doc.”

“Bye, bye, Screw Loose,” said Doc Stable. He got up from his chair and made for the door. “Come along, Nursery. Let’s leave her alone.”

From the patient’s side of the glass, Screw Loose waved him goodbye.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So what was the point of all that, Doctor Stable?” Nursery Rhyme asked once they were out in the hallway.

Doc Stable raised an eyebrow. “Point?”

“She didn’t get any better, did she?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. She really is getting better. It’s not the sort of thing you can measure on a graph, though. We can’t always tell how, and we can’t always say why, but we know she’s making progress. She didn’t make as much as we’d hoped she would this time, but she still made some.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“Well, you can’t ask too much of her. There aren’t too many miracles in this profession. The important thing is for you to remember that patients...”

“Are ponies too.”

“See?” Doc Stable smiled. “Progress. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. Let’s see if we can’t get ourselves a bite to eat, hm?”

“Yes, sir.”