The Rise Of Sir Pendergast The Great

Chapter V: How The Mighty Hath Fallen

"Rise and shine, sleepy face!" Chazzz draws back the curtains and flips over King Zog's bed.

"Aah!" Still strapped to the bed, Zog is trapped face-down between the heavy steel frame and cold stone floor. "HONK, What the hell?"

"We've got a busy schedule ahead," explains Chazzz, bending down. "First, lightning therapy, then breakfast. After that it's the thumb twisting, followed by hot yoga--"

"Wait," cuts in Zog. "Thumb--HONK--twisting?"

"Yeah," says Chazzz. "It helps us get in tune with your past."

"How?" Zog tries to roll over, but to no avail. "I thought I--HONK--came here to--HONK--heal!"

"You did. This is how we heal you: with torture! Works every time."

"How is--HONK--pain supposed to heal me?"

Chazzz's face suddenly grows very, very serious. "Slowly," he replies. Then, chipper, "So we better get started!"

He pulls the whole bed to the hall by the frame, dragging Zog's face along the floor.

"Aah," cries the king. "Can't you just--HONK--unstrap me? Wouldn't that--HONK--be easier?"

"'Easy' doesn't heal," quips Chazzz.

Zog groans and honks all the way down the hall, leaving a trail of blood and snot.

***

The shock therapy room is a stark stone laboratory with a ceiling as tall as a castle tower. An orb attached to a metal rod hangs from its highest point. The rod is hitched with wires that snake all the way to the floor.

An empty slab is locked into a pedestal in the center of the room. The only lights are blue and green, casting long, dark, and eerie shadows.

Chazzz finally stops and turns the bed back over. A squat man in a lab coat and missing eye hobbles over on a wooden leg. He leaves behind a table crowded with sharp, pointy tools.

"Ah," he says, looking Zog over. "Our newest patient, Mr. Grunkowitz. I'm Dr. Zeek. Welcome, welcome."

"HONK," Zog responds, "I'm actually King--HONK--King Grunkowitz."

"Nuh-uh-uh," Dr. Zeek waves a finger at Zog's bruised, bleeding face. "We don't go by titles here. Everyone is in need of healing, so everyone is created equal."

"So you get strapped to a bed every night?" snaps Zog.

Chazzz and Zeek both laugh.

"Oh, good one," chuckles Zeek. "Good one, Mr. Grunkowitz. I think we're going to get along splendidly."

He claps his hands, and two large, muscular orderlies come barreling in. Zeek points to the slab on the pedestal, and the orderlies immediately unstrap Zog and carry him to it.

"What's going on?" asks the king.

"Your first round of shock therapy," answers Chazzz. "It's a state-of-the-art treatment."

"What's shock--HONK--therapy?"

"It's a blast of lightning to your brain," says Zeek, excitedly. "Burning out all the parts that make you crazy."

"But wouldn't lightning--HONK--just electrocute everything?" asks Zog, wriggling uncomfortably while being strapped into the slab.

"Not if we're careful," assures Zeek. "And we are always careful."

Suddenly the doctor falls into a fit of twitching, his wrists jagging away from his fingers and his head turning almost vertical on his neck. He makes clicking sounds from the back of his mouth, followed by insane laughter.