The Chibi Problem Part 26
BabyDoll and I spent a fairly uneventful day, dozing and being awakened by people who insisted on asking how I was feeling. Fortunately, I was too sore, too tired and too groggy to actually rip anyone's head off, but I wanted to.
Especially when dealing with those misguided souls who seemed to think I was a plural. "Are we ready to try walking to the bathroom? Are we hungry yet? Did we finish all our lunch? Have we had a nice nap?"
Even BabyDoll gave them a look that clearly said "Are you people nuts?! How many of her do you see?"
Let it be clearly understood here, that I appreciate and admire health care professionals for doing a job I wouldn't touch with a sixty foot pole. But Jesus Christ people! Stop with the baby talk and the royal plurals! You make me gag! And gagging makes me angry enough to hurt something.
I muttered the most benign responses I could manage, probably sounding like a junkyard dog with PMS. Even my sweet little guy had taken to fingering his scythe and rumbling warningly whenever an HCP appeared.
Mike called around noon, while BabyDoll was inspecting what was alleged to be my "lunch", to tell me that I had killed the alternator.
"Well, I told you that," I grumbled and he laughed.
"You know these guys will never trust an amateur's instinct."
Very true.
Mike then said that it would be all set by that afternoon, and he and one of his buddies would see to getting it back to my house. Before I could even bring up the subject of money, he said that the hobby shop guys were doing it "on the house" for the chance to actually meet the six little devils.
BabyDoll heard that clearly enough, having given up on trying to decide what the hospital was trying to feed me, and preened, chattering into the phone and setting Mike to laughing like a hysterical loon.
"Geez," gasped my neighbor when he could finally speak. "I could swear he just said he looked forward to meeting his 'public'."
I debated for a few seconds, then decided what the hell. "He did say that, Mike. You're learning to understand Chibi."
He guffawed some more, obviously not believing me, and BabyDoll gave a heavy sigh and shook his head at the foolish human.
"It's okay, sweetie; he'll figure it out eventually," I whispered to my Chibi. "He has a literal mind."
BabyDoll shrugged and flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture. No skin off his nose, was the suggestion.
Mike promised to call me from the house, once he had delivered my car, so that the gundam could chat with BabyDoll and I. I reminded him that the gundam wouldn't let his friend in the house, since he wasn't on the "approved" list. He said that wasn't a problem; his friend wasn't much of a fan of Chibis.
BabyDoll heard that and began to chatter and squawk.
"You need some new friends, dude," I translated with a laugh.
We got through the rest of the day without incident. The doctor dropped by to inspect the various bumps, bruises, cracks and dislocations, and opined that I was doing nicely. He brought a small bag of Hershey's Kisses and presented them very solemnly to my Chibi.
"For being such a devoted little guy and taking good care of your mommie," he said.
BabyDoll stared at him, clutching the candy to his chest. "Oooooiii!" he trilled. Then, "Shiiiii... no chikan! Moooiiiii... chuuuuu...!"
[Thank you, but I didn't do a very good job because mommie got hurt.]
The doctor patted BabyDoll's head gently. "You did do a good job," he insisted. "And you will do better in the future."
BabyDoll hugged his hand; his "public" version of the neck wrap hugs that I get.
"Thanks, Doc. Didn't know you spoke Chibi."
He shrugged. "Grew up in the Central Valley; saw a lot of wild ones up there. I discovered that if I really listened hard, it almost sounded like they were talking. Then I thought maybe they were, and most people just didn't bother to listen. So, I listened. Never seen a domestic Chibi before this, though."
I gave him the URL of the Chibi Club, and suggested he check it out.
BabyDoll curled up next to me when he had gone.
"You're just making fans wherever you go," I laughed. "You know, this is why I think you guys would be great for people who need companions or helpers." He thrummed an agreement and settled against my hair with the TV remote.
"Hnnn..." he sighed, punching the button to surf the available channels.
~*~
Everyone knows about hospital and wheelchairs, right? How they won't let you out unless your butt is planted in that seat? Yeah. Ever try to negotiate the distance from the wheelchair to a car seat when heavily medicated and spatially disoriented?
It's a real laugh riot, all right...
Mike showed up around 0900 the next morning. I was already dressed, courtesy of my weekend bag, which he had thoughtfully left for me. I felt like refried goat crap. Just getting vertical, getting my unwilling body stuffed into clothing and running my fingers through my hair was a chore of the first magnitude.
"Get me the fuck outta here," I growled by way of greeting, and I think the staff was more than happy to see the back of me.
I know I relaxed as soon as the doors closed behind me and I was able to breathe fresh air again. Hospital air comes from the same place as transoceanic air travel air comes from, only the discount table.
BabyDoll rode on my uninjured shoulder; wings opened warningly, and thrummed the whole time. To our surprise, Angel was balanced on the top of the steering wheel following our progress intently.
"Eh?" I muttered intelligently, and Mike laughed.
"I guess they drew straws or something. He planted himself on the windshield and refused to move until I let him in. I figured what the hell."
As soon as the door opened, Angel was right there. He patted my cheek in greeting then turned to his mate, gathering BabyDoll into an embrace better left to lemons, complete with growls, glares, rumbles and thrums so loud people were staring.
BabyDoll returned the favor with trills and chatters and screeches that came so fast I couldn't begin to translate. It was just... adorable. And I had that stupid expression on my face, the one I always get when my Chibis do something disgustingly cute. Sort of a non-verbal "Awww."
They ran down eventually, and I managed to get from the chair into the car without winding up facedown on the sidewalk. It was a near thing, really. I pretty much had to do it myself, since there weren't any places for Mike to hold onto that didn't hurt like hell. And the Chibis bounced around the interior anxiously, offering advice, instructions and general encouragement.
Yep, they really would be great little companions. Although I'm sure Killer would have a few pithy remarks to make about my performance, were he here. But he wasn't, and BabyDoll made up for Angel's glares by snuggling down on my shoulder for the ride home. Angel planted his little self on the seat behind me and hooked into my hair, patting occasionally when he decided I needed reassurance.
Getting out of the car was harder than getting in. Isn't that always the way? It would have been far easier to simply slide out of the truck, but then getting into the truck would have been hell and a half, so either way, it was an adventure.
My feet had barely hit the ground when the gundam erupted from the house, the yard and the back patio. Frantically vocalizing Chibis of all types and ages instantly surrounded me. Killer was hung about with chibits, the juveniles from the trip fluttered and bounced along the driveway. The collective drone was "moooiiiii hoooo..." with chirps, shrieks, squalls and trills.
Mike stared. "Are you gonna be okay with all this?" he wondered aloud.
"Yeah," I reassured him. "They'll calm down once we get inside."
"Geez..."
"No shit. You see now why I don't need a dog or a lock on the door?"
"Yeah..."
~*~
The next few days were pretty much a blur. I went to bed, took pain pills, got up, took pain pills, watched TV, took pain pills. Between Mike and the gundam, I didn't have to lift a finger for myself if I didn't want to.
Shawn came over and ran the vacuum, emptied the trashcans and helped load and unload the dishwasher. He played with the chibits and the juveniles, and instructed them on putting away their toys when they were finished so that I wouldn't fall over them and their parents wouldn't have to do it for them.
The Chibis never left me alone. BabyDoll took up permanent station on my shoulder, rotating which of his babies joined him. The fliers shuttled food and drinks between the kitchen and me. The grounders picked up crumbs, brought yarn, needles, and books for me to read. They changed the CDs in the stack and the DVDs in the player.
I looked up once to find a bag of potato chips scurrying across the floor. For just a few seconds, I thought I had lost my mind, until a little blond head poked out and the quatre gave me an inquiring "friii~end?" wanting to know where to deposit the bag.
A fleece throw flowed from the bedroom across the floor and up the furniture to settle atop me when BabyDoll decided I was cold.
I really wished I had the camcorder set up. Nobody would ever believe me without visual proof.
Mike checked in a couple times a day. My friends checked in a couple times a day. Pete emailed and even called a couple of times, and Pete hates phones. I got mail from fellow chibers, and not a few offers of legal assistance, should I need it. I emailed Aunt Millicent about the incident, and she had only one thing to say: Next time, pack heat.
And I thought very seriously about that.
TBC...
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