Chapter 15: The Post-op Blues


Frankie tumbled through a grey void with no beginning and no ending, no
floor and no ceiling. It was just an infinite expanse of grey. He felt
no panic. No fear. No emotion. From out of nowhere, a shower of scalpels
rained down on him. One of the scalpels dug right into his chest. Still,
he felt no panic. No fear. His heart popped out and floated away into
the grey void. It was followed by a continuous spurt of blood that broke
up into large blood droplets. The large blood droplets hung around him
like 99 red balloons. Frankie felt strangely at peace.

The grey void and blood droplets disappeared into an expanding inky
blackness that appeared out of nowhere. Then Frankie found himself
sitting on top of a grassy knoll in the middle of a large field of
grass. It was apparently night. The sky was dark and the stars were
twinkling. The full moon bathed the landscape in a soft glow. Frankie
ran his hands down his chest. The blood was no longer there. Nor was
there any sign of an incision from the scalpel. He wiggled his toes. The
soft and yielding grass felt good against his bare feet. The grass felt
a bit damp, perhaps from some light rain earlier in the day.

Frankie turned to his side. He saw Freda, his sister, also sitting on
the grassy knoll next to him. Freda was wearing what appeared to be a
cheerleader's outfit. She had on a tight fitting tank top with a Ferret
Power logo in front, and a short pleated skirt. She looked beautiful,
bathed in the glow of the full moon. She looked at Frankie and smiled.

Up in the dark sky, a shooting star streaked down from above towards the
horizon. "Make a wish," said Freda. She nodded to Frankie. Frankie
thought for a second or two and then he knew what he wanted.

Freda slowly faded away until only her smile remained. And then that too
disappeared. A few seconds later, it was replaced by a grin from a
different face. Almost imperceptible at first but gradually becoming
more and more well defined, Martin faded into view next to Frankie.

"Wait a minute," said Frankie. "That's not what I wished for."

"Oh. Thanks for the welcome," said Martin while rolling his eyes.

The night scene vanished as Frankie gradually regained consciousness. He
opened his eyes and saw that he was lying face down on a bed. He
recognized the baseball pattern on the bed sheet. He was still somewhat
groggy but with some effort he pushed himself up into a sitting
position. Looking around the room confirmed what he thought. Once again,
he was in Martin's bedroom. He reached behind with his right hand and
felt the back of his neck. There was a piece of cotton gauze there.
Surgical tape held the cotton gauze in place.

Then Frankie noticed that once again, he was completely naked. He rolled
his eyes. Darn that Martin, he thought. He saw his clothes folded neatly
in a pile on top of the dresser so he got out of bed, went over to the
dresser and started dressing. He put on his Ferret Power briefs. Then he
put on his polyester and cotton blend pants. One leg at a time, of
course. Then he put on his Ferret Power t-shirt, taking particular care
not to shift the gauze at the back of his neck. Then he picked up his
yellow and black acrylic jacket and put it on. And then he walked out of
the bedroom into the hallway.

Frankie saw Martin in the kitchen. Martin had just come in and he was
carrying a brown paper bag full of groceries.

"Ah, I see surgery boy is up again, sans implant." said Martin,
chuckling.

"Uhh... hi," said Frankie. "And thanks for bringing me back from the
clinic."

"No problem," said Martin. He had started unpacking the brown paper bag.
His hands were almost a blur as he rapidly placed the cans into the
cabinet. He set a loaf of bread down on the kitchen counter. Then he put
the bottle of milk into the refrigerator.

The last time he was here, Frankie did not get much of a chance to look
at the kitchen because he was in a hurry to get out of Martin's
apartment. But this time he took a look around. The kitchen was a wonder
of utility and space efficiency. There was either a kitchen appliance or
gadget tucked into almost every corner of the room. There was a water
filter on the kitchen faucet. There was an electric can opener mounted
under the cabinet. There was an electronic timer mounted on the front of
the oven. A coffee maker was tucked between the microwave oven and the
refrigerator, and it was a perfect fit there.

Martin had finished unpacking the brown bag. He folded the brown bag
neatly and placed it on top of a stack of brown bags under the kitchen
sink. He smacked his hands together, as though he was dusting them off.
"So..." said Martin, "How is your neck? Feeling okay?"

Frankie nodded. "So far so good."

"Yeah," said Martin. "According to Dr Chip, the surgery was rather
tricky. He said something about the implant being attached to the spinal
cord. It took nearly five hours, all the way into the evening. I watched
for a while and then I left the clinic to catch a movie at the triplex
around the corner."

Frankie glared at him.

"Hey," said Martin. "It was opening night for The Matrix: Regurgitated.
I thought they were done after the 999th movie in the series but they
made one more so it was the 1000th Matrix movie. I simply could not miss
that! This is the movie where The Architect explains why hot dogs come
in packs of ten but hot dog rolls come in packs of eight. The
philosophical discussion about hot dogs in the movie was simply
profound."

Frankie nodded. Then he raised a hand. "No spoilers please. I have to go
see it soon."

"Okay," said Martin. "I'll stop there. Anyway, after the movie, I went
back to the clinic and the doctor was just about done. He wrote a
prescription for painkillers so I got these pills from the corner
pharmacy." On the kitchen counter, there was a small white paper bag
with a label on it. Martin picked it up and showed it to Frankie. "See?
It's OxyContin." said Martin. "That's the Limbaugh special right here."

"The who special?" asked Frankie, puzzled by the historical reference.

"No, The Who was a band." said Martin, jokingly.

Frankie smacked his forehead.

"Yeah, I brought you back across town on the bus. One cat lady thought
we were the cutest couple. You were sorta slumped over my shoulder at
the time." said Martin, chuckling again.

Frankie was speechless. He was without speech.

"Anyway, do get some rest," advised Martin. "You are welcome to spend
the night here, if you want."

"Okay thanks," said Frankie. "But don't be getting any ideas," he
continued, turning his head a little to his back as if to point at
his behind with his nose.

"You know," said Martin "for someone who is not gay, you sure are rather
preoccupied with your rear end. Anyway, do rest up because we have to go
get the Red Rooster and rescue your sister in about two days."

Frankie spent the next two days lounging around in Martin's apartment.
As he was on painkillers, he did not feel completely 100 percent able to
make his way back home so he thought it was best if he stayed around.
And besides Martin was being more than hospitable, while keeping the
references to his cute ferret rear end to a minimum. He watched the big
screen television while Martin busied himself at the computer. Over the
two days, Martin left the apartment a couple of times. Once he came back
rather disheveled and looked a bit roughed up. But he did not say
anything about what had happened.

Two days had passed. Martin had just come back into the apartment from a
newspaper run. He said, "Hey there, ferrety ferret. Okay, it is time
for us to go. Follow me."

Frankie picked up his jacket and followed Martin out the door. They took
the stairs down, and down, and down some more to the street level.
Martin waved to Frankie. "Come along now." They left the building
through the front door. Martin made a left turn and went down the
sidewalk for a few feet. Next to the entrance, there was a handrail and
a set of concrete steps leading down to a steel door painted red just
below the sidewalk. Martin went down the steps, followed closely by
Frankie. Martin opened the door and stepped in. So did Frankie. He found
himself in a room of brilliant white. All the walls were whitewashed. As
Martin closed the door, Frankie noticed that the back of the door was
painted white too and if it were not for the thin vertical crack that
it left when it closed and the door knob, he would not have been able to
tell that there was a door there.

They walked to the center of the room, or where Frankie guessed the
center was. Martin placed his hands on Frankie's shoulders. "Just one
step to the left," he said.

Suddenly, half a dozen shelves came rushing out of the white void
beyond. One of them narrowly missed Frankie. He saw that the shelves
were full of guns and ammunition of every conceivable kind.

"Check out my motorized gun racks," said Martin. "Cool, huh?"

Martin stroked his chin and went "Hmmm..." Then he picked up a machine
gun and a bandolier of bullets. "Go on," said Martin. "Grab one. Grab a
few. They're cheap. You will need something to supplement that pocket
cannon of yours." He paused. "I mean that other pocket cannon," he said,
smirking at his little joke.

Frankie ignored Martin's remark. He looked around the racks. He thought
the Uzi Pistol looked cool so he picked up one of them. He also picked
up a few magazines of ammunition.

"Good choice," said Martin. "Okay, now let's go cook the Red Rooster."

"Wait a minute," said Frankie, with a look of puzzlement. "Do you know
where the Red Rooster is hiding out this time?"

"Yes I do, but it wasn't easy to find out," said Martin. "I tracked down
one of his operatives and roughed up the poor fellow. Took quite a bit
of needling but I got him to spew out the address. The Chinese finger
trap got him to speak." Martin fished out a small red and green tube
from his pants pocket. "Gets 'em every time," he said.