“Let’s get you back to bed.” Doc scooped Ottis into his arms and nudged the cart. “C’mon, cart buddy. Let’s head upstairs.”
“You should be resting too,” Ottis said. “You’re tired.”
“Later.” Doc brought Ottis to the foot of the stairs. There, he grabbed the cart—and Marcie in its belly—in his other arm. He carried them upstairs in an impressive show of strength.
“Wow, you’re hot,” Ottis blurted.
“My core is made of fire,” Doc said, pleased. He deposited the cart at the top of the stairs, holding onto it. “No wheeling down the stairs if you’re carrying Marcie, buddy. She will get hurt if you do.”
The cart squeaked its wheels in agreement. Doc released it.
The four of them arrived at Doc’s bedroom. Doc set Ottis gently on the bed. Ottis wriggled out of his clothes while the cart brought Marcie to every corner, showing her Doc’s belongings.
“We should name the cart,” Ottis mumbled. “It’s been running around the mansion, claiming this place as its territory.”
Doc laughed. “Has it?”
“Yeah. It follows me everywhere I go, but whenever I sit down, it goes off and pokes into all the corners. It’s been stuck on the stairs, in the grass, on the tree roots. I’ve had to rescue it several times. But I think it might want to think of you as its alpha. You should assert your dominance.”
“How do I assert my dominance over a shopping cart?”
“Stand over it and beat your chest?” Ottis snickered.
Doc snorted. “Let me try something else. Hey, cart. Come over here, buddy.”
The cart moseyed over, playfully nudging Marcie with its flap. Marcie giggled and kicked.
Doc scooped Marcie out and set her next to Ottis. “Cart buddy, what would you like to be named?”
The cart wriggled and squeaked its wheels.
“Hotcart,” Ottis said. “Like a hotdog, but a cart.”
Doc laughed and turned to the cart. “What do you think?”
The cart bumped their knees and lifted its flap; Ottis perked up.
“Yeah? Hotcart it is,” he said, petting its cargo basket. “You’re great.”
The cart turned in a tight circle, before racing around the bedroom. Then it ducked through the doors and raced off to parts unknown.
“Don’t fall down the stairs!” Doc yelled after it. “It’s going to hurt your wheels!”
The cart squeaked again, its wheels grinding as it changed directions abruptly.
Ottis sighed. “Imagine if you hadn’t told it that.”
Doc chuckled. “It’s just like a pup. Except we can fix its hurts.”
“Youcan fix it. I probably can’t, with my inferior strength.”
“There’s a few fixes you can do,” Doc said thoughtfully. “Like tightening screws and cleaning it up.”
“That’s true,” Ottis said, feeling better.
“Not right now, though.” Doc began to pull off his hospital scrubs. “Naptime?”
“Yes!” Ottis wriggled out of his clothes, his fatigue settling back in now that the excitement was over. “I’m just so... tired.”
