Machine Man (serial)

“Toast?” said Lola. “There’s peanut butter. I could make you peanut butter toast.”

I grunted. On TV, a nurse with amazing cleavage stared out a window. The handsome doctor behind her, she said, would never get away with this.

“What’s that?” said Lola. “Yes or no?”

“Coffee.”

“You’ve had enough coffee.” She came out of the kitchen. I was standing in the middle of the living room, watching TV. To make room, I had pushed the sofa out of the way with my hoof. It now sat against the wall, occupied by three aggrieved dogs. One wore a little faux leather jacket. I really, really hoped that dog was not supposed to be Elvis. “Why don’t you have some water instead?”

“I don’t want water.” The TV doctor wrapped the nurse into a passionate embrace. That was an unexpected development.

Lola came over. “Charlie, I know you’re grouchy, coming off the painkillers. But you should have some water.”

“Water won’t help.”

“It will.”

I gestured at my bandaged arm. “Will it help this?”

“Angelica said that was just a scratch.”

“I think it’s infected.”

Lola fell silent. “Well, Angelica will look at it tonight.”

Angelica had gone to work. She would, allegedly, be bringing home as many painkillers as she could safely swipe from the hospital. In the meantime, I had to survive on over-the-counter medication. It was a serious come-down from the level of medication I was used to. Each yap from the dressed-up rats roaming Angelica’s house was a knife in my brain.

“I’ll make you toast,” said Lola. “And I’m bringing you more water.”

She went back out to the kitchen. She was right: I was grouchy. But not just because of the painkillers. I was mad that she and Angelica had taken me out of my legs. I didn’t voice this. I knew Lola would point out that I’d been unconscious and the Contours were too heavy to lift. And this was undeniable. She had logic on her side. But it didn’t change how I felt: that she had taken my parts.

110.