Chapter 10 – My Pussycat

The events following the death of Phil are somewhat a blur. I know that as soon as the voice spoke, there was a loud click and the blinding light disappeared. Of course I still couldn’t see anything because my field of vision was impaired by the massive helmet covering not only my face but half my body. Next, I heard the door open and a torrent of foot steps come flooding into the room. I felt random hands lift off my polar bear blanket, and I could feel other hands scoop up my limp frame and carry me off to God knows where. From there everything went black.

The next time I opened my eyes I was lying in perhaps the most comfortable bed ever forged by human hands. For a kid used to sleeping in trees and on the floors of Beatniks, this was heaven. I turned over and found I had more room, so I turned over again and then again and again until I turned over one too many times and hit the floor.

Immediately, a door opened up and two women raced in. The first one to reach me gently helped me up and put me back to bed. She was grandmother like, her face worn with grooves given to her by time. The grandmother woman also had mud flaps on her arms and smelled like old peppermint. She said something in Denmarkese to the second woman, who I noticed was much younger and more attractive. Of course, to a six year old boy, attractive is a relative term.

The grandmother nurse tucked in my blankets and then said,

Stop griseri omkring! Den næste gang jer blive uenige i leje Jeg er igangværende hen til lave mig bedst Phil imiteret og bite jeres dick ned af selv. JEG bande hen til God JEG kan ikke lide indeværende opgave! Hvor kan det være at kan ikke JEG netop omkomme allerede?!?!

Of course I still didn’t speak Denmarkese and looked at her like a confused puppy. The other, attractive nurse stepped forward and to my shock spoke decent English! She let me know that her boss told me to be more careful and I was a reminder of precisely how much she loved her job.

My mouth curved into a grin at the thought of being able to communicate with someone. My vocabulary was growing and I wanted to convey to the nurse everything I’ve gone through. I wanted her to know that despite all the obstacles, all the hardships I believed in the goodness of the human spirit, and how the two of them, with their kindness, validated these thoughts. Instead, because I was only six I said,

Thanks.

Everyday the same two nurses came in to check on me and helped me do my exercises. Phil the polar bear had done a number on my fragile, six year old body and while nothing was broken things were out of sorts. Before I could marry the Princess, I had to be one hundred percent healthy, and that was their sole purpose. The attractive nurse would also mention something about my having to be reborn a true Denmarkian prior to the wedding ceremony, something my young mind couldn’t comprehend. Every time she said this, the grandmother nurse would follow with,

JEG kan ikke tro du er nær forestående op fra mig mis!

And the attractive nurse would answer with a cute Denmarkese giggle.

Three days had passed and the damage done by Phil was falling by the wayside. I was able to stride across the room, which I had realized was nothing more than a glorified broom closet, painted a soft orange. Due to the fine Denmark cuisine my nurses were bestowing upon my pallet, my weight had finally reached the standard deemed normal by western medicine. Yes, things were progressing fairly well. The only problem seemed to be coming from the grandmother nurse, who would always say the same thing before leaving me for the day,

JEG kan ikke tro du er nær forestående op fra mig mis!

I had a strong motivation to learn the language – if I was marrying the Princess this meant I would eventually become king! How could I lead my people if I didn’t know what they were saying? Thus I convinced the attractive nurse to teach me her native language. She looked at the grandmother nurse and shrugged. Looking back now, I firmly believed she thought I was a stupid little boy and it would be a waste of time.

However I had grown adept at mastering new and different situations in my almost seven years on Earth. How hard could learning Denmarkese be? Hard was being hooked to the ceiling and spinning around like a fan!

A week passed and I was learning more and more of my soon to be native language. In fact, I was halfway to translating the now infamous sentence grandmother nurse said to my general direction everyday,

I can’t believe you…something something…….my pussycat.

How sweet, I thought, she calls me her pussycat!

During the second week, the nurses started doing something strange to me. A two gallon drum was brought into the room, filled almost to the brim with KY jelly. I would be brought over, stand on a step-stool and submerge into the barrel. Thirty seconds later I would explode out of the jelly, gasping for air and feeling for the life preserver hands of my nurses.

It was Thursday and I had just finished my fourth trip into the barrel. The grandmother nurse toweled me off and led me back to bed when she repeated the sentence. I had the thing almost fully translated as,

I can’t believe you are coming _____ my pussycat

My mind raced as I tried to figure out the remaining two words, “op fra” meant. I was certain that the moment I figured out what she was saying I would know what exactly was going on around here. As I sat there, intently thinking I heard the attractive nurse say,

Er du i orden indeværende uge?

Which meant,

Are you working this weekend?

To which the grandmother nurse said,

Jer må af sted op fra jeres indre!

Feeling as if my body was surging with electricity, I shot out of bed and started to scream. She had said,

You must be out of your mind!

I knew what “op fra” meant!

Suddenly I felt like I was in that famous Twilight Zone episode with the Kanamites! All I needed was a spaceship and a hot blonde assistant to come charging in screaming, “IT’S A COOKBOOK!” But instead of being the main course for giant aliens, like the main character in the episode was, in real life my fate would be much, MUCH worse!

Everything made sense now, and before the nurses could grab hold of me I ran out the door and into the hallway. At the end of the hall was a window and I raced for it like The Beatniks – Gloria and Solomon were chasing me! I could hear the nurses screaming my name in their dirty Denmarkese accents but I didn’t dare look back. As I reached the window, I stopped and took a deep breath. This was going to hurt a lot, but I didn’t care. Whatever happened to me would be substantially less painful than what would happen if I stayed. A scream rose forth from the depths of my being and with a surge I crashed through the window. Glass shattered everywhere and I could feel a sudden gush of wind whip through my hair. My eyes began to tear as thoughts and images tumbled in my mind. Despite the rapid descent everything seemed to flow in slow motion. And as the ground grew closer and more defined, all I could hear was the sentence the grandmother nurse said over and over:

JEG kan ikke tro du er nær forestående op fra mig mis!

Except now I could hear it in English. I had innocently believed “my pussycat” was a loving term of endearment. But I was wrong, OH MY GOD WAS I WRONG!

She wasn’t calling me her pussycat!

Instead, she was saying,

I can’t believe you are coming out of my pussy!

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