Part XXIV: Back To Life. Back To Reality.

Harry Guakomoli woke up in a hospital bed but not in a hospital. It was a small room with cement walls, floor, and ceiling, It reminded The Guak of a cell in a prison...or an asylum. A catheter connected to an IV drip ran into each arm.

Our hero was groggy and confused but first things first. The needles in his arms had to fucking go. He reached over to his left arm with his right and grabbed the tube sticking out of his forearm.

"I can remove those for you, Mr. Guakomoli," a voice called from outside our hero's peripheral before he could yank out the PVC tube.

The Guak turned his head to see a short skinny man standing in the doorway. His long platinum hair was pulled back into a ponytail. His faux turtleneck and slacks were both black and mostly hidden under a crisp white lab coat. The man crossed over to the hero and slowly removed one catheter and then the other.

"Do I know you?" The Guak asked.

"No, no you do not," answered the man, a broad grin plastered to his pale face. "I'm Dr. Triangle. Dr. Lawrence Triangle, and I hope we get to know each other better."

"I'm not into dudes."

Our hero had nothing against homosexuality. Shit, he had even dabbled in it briefly while in The Pink before he decided it just wasn't his bag. Despite The Guak's indifference, he found it best to nip this in the bud. So to speak.

"Oh no no nonono," said Dr. Triangle, his speech briefly accelerating before slowing backing down to a normal level. "I meant my team and I spent a great amount of time, effort, and resources bringing you back from the dead."

"So I really died?" The Guak asked with skepticism.

"Oh, yes!" Triangle exclaimed. The Guak found the doctor's enthusiasm off-putting. "You melted, Mr. Guakomoli. Literally. We were not able to find any of you at the explosion site, but we recovered some teeth and blood after your skirmish with Sasquatch McGillicuddy. And we collected some of your pubic hairs from your bathroom toilet and head hairs from a comb."

"You were in my apartment?" The Guak asked angrily.

"Wellllllllllllllll, yes. We were unable to acquire any samples of you at Neuneuschwanstein so I had an operative conduct some clandestine hair collecting."

"I need to get out of this fucking bed."

"Of course. Stretching is good. On the night stand beside you you will find some clothes: sweatshirt, dungarees, and the like. They are not the most fashionable, but we are operating on a limited budget. I shall turn my back to you so that you may have some privacy while making yourself presentable."

And Dr. Lawrence Triangle did just that. He stepped back towards the doorway and turned his back to The Guak. Our hero, who then just realized he was wearing nothing but a hospital gown, in one quick motion swung his legs over the side of the bed and hopped down to the floor. He landed on his feet and immediately crumpled, falling to the cement floor.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Triangle said after hearing the loud thud and some strong words from The Guak. "Your muscles have atrophied due to disuse. Actually, those particular muscleshaveneverbeenusedbutIcangettothatonceyouaredressed. Would you like a hand up?"

"Stay where you are!" The Guak barked. Already he found the doctor annoying and wanted him dead.

Our hero slowly pulled himself back up to his feet and began the arduous task of getting dressed. Triangle was in no way lying about the attire being less than chic: a black hooded Mickey Mouse sweatshirt, a ratty pair of pleated blue jeans, and gray Velcro sneakers. The Guak was hardly one to adhere to the latest trends, but after looking at himself in the mirror our hero, possibly for the first time in his life, felt embarrassment.

"Tell me, doctor," said The Guak. "How did you do it? How did you supposedly bring me back from the dead?"

"You know, Mr. Guakomoli. I do not rightly know. We tried a number of disciplines: hermetic hedge magic, Babylonian sha etemmu black arts, Renaissance-era nigramancy, Haitian vodou, bushmandemoncraftandweevenutilizedalchemicalformulaeforhomunculi andgolems. I am not exactly sure what worked, and what did not. Perhaps with some further testing --"

"Ugh. Now you're boring me."

"Apologies. A large part of your resurrection was due to your incrediblehealingcapabilities.Yousirareveryspecial --"

The Guak's eyes had already glazed over; the night of his death was spent listening to the babbling of one whack job doctor, and our hero was not eager to spend his first waking moment with the ramblings of another. The Guak had already tuned out Dr. Triangle, but there was something the fast-talker mentioned that set him off. In one rapid motion our hero slammed Triangle against the wall and wrapped his ham-sized mitt around the man's throat. Triangle, understandably, was shocked and terrified..

"Say it, piss ant," The Guak growled. "I know what 'special' is code for, so just say it, egghead. Call me retarded."

"What?!" Triangle cried with an even greater expression of surprise on his face. "Nonononononono! ThatwasnotwhatIwasimplyingatall! In fact I think your intelligence level is the only thing average about you. You see, Mr. Guakomoli, I have reason to believeyouaretheseventh --"

"Shut. Up."

Dr. Lawrence Triangle did what he was told. The Guak stared into his eyes and tightened his grip. The doctor was perspiring profusely, sweat streaming down into his platinum eyebrows before they absorbed as much as they could and dripped into his eyes. Our hero sneered as the much smaller man's face began to turn purple.

"Please," Triangle struggled to get out. "Please believe me."

The Guak's sneer turned into a malicious grin.

"I do believe you. I wanted to see what happened first: someone to save your annoying ass or you piss yourself. But I'm tired of this game."

Our hero released his grip around the doctor's neck and took a step back. Triangle dropped to his knees and desperately gasped for breath.

"And I'm tired of you," The Guak said while he looked down at the scientist. "How do I get out of here?"

"Wait, you're leaving? You can't leave."

"Are you threatening me?" asked The Guak as he clenched his fists. "I thought I just proved I could snap you like a twig. Maybe I should rip off your scalp and wear it as a chapeau."

Our hero didn't know what a chapeau was, or how he knew it was a word, but he said it and it appeared to work.

"No, that is not what I meant," Triangle responded as he got back on his feet. "There is a war on the horizon, Harry, may I call you 'Harry?' and we spent an awful lot of our resources bringing you back."

"I never asked you to bring me back from the dead. That's on you. But thanks, I guess, Larry. Can I call you 'Larry?'"

"Actually, it is Dr. Triangle. Dr. Lawrence Triangle."

"Actually, I don't fucking care."

The Guak stepped out of the recovery room.