House and the P.L.O.T. Device: 28
House's last PLOT-ified night.
Apart from the grocery store trip, they spend most of the day quietly at home. House plays with his marble run and race car track, and then enlists Wilson in a gamed of Dinosaur Soccer, using a marble for the ball. Wilson plays the herbivores. He’s fairly sure that House’s favorite part of the game is the riot that ensues after the carnivore team wins.
The game seems to wear House out, and when Chase arrives for dinner, he’s laying on the rug coloring. “Here,” he says, handing Chase some paper and a crayon. “Draw dinosaurs.”
Chase settles down on the rug with him and draws. Wilson checks the pizza dough--still needs more time to rise--and gets the boys a snack of cheese and carrot sticks. Chase thanks him, and House says, “I’m thirsty too.”
Wilson gets out a can of the coconut soda and, after giving the matter some thought, pours it over some ice.
House takes a big sip, screws up his face, and swallows with an effort. “What the hell is that?”
Wilson tells him, adding, “You said it was your favorite.”
“I must have confused it with something else.” He pushes the glass toward Chase. “Here, you can have it.”
Chase glances up from the stegosaurus he’s drawing. “No thanks.”
“You made me buy six cans of it,” Wilson reminds House.
He shrugs. “I know! We can put it in the lounge at work and hide to watch people try to drink it.”
Wilson expects they will probably end up doing just that. He replaces the coconut soda with a glass of juice.
House finishes his picture and shows it to Wilson. “Look. I drew Dinosaur Soccer.”
“I see.” Wilson admires it. “There’s the T-rex eating the opposing team’s defense. That’s very…creative.”
Chase’s picture is a stegosaurus family eating leaves. “Bo-ring,” House pronounces it.
“Chase’s picture is very nice too,” Wilson says. “Let’s put them both on the refrigerator.”
House clears away some of the takeout menus and older drawings to make room for Dinosaur Soccer. Chase’s picture is granted a space around on the side.
After checking the dough again--almost ready--Wilson says, “Let’s start getting the toppings ready.”
“Okay,” House agrees. “I’ll be in charge of watching Benedict!” He races out to the living room.
“He’s still not much of a kitchen helper,” Wilson tells Chase. They get to work.
“Is House ready to change back?” Chase asks after a while.
“I guess. He hasn’t said anything.” Wilson chops a mushroom. “What’s it like?” He’s pretty sure it’s a dumb question--going through the P.L.O.T. device almost has to be the kind of experience you can’t describe.
Chase shrugs. “Weird. It was kind of scary, being six and knowing the next day I was going to be a grown-up.”
“That makes sense.” He chops another mushroom. “So what can we do to make it okay for House?”
Chase starts dicing a pepper. “I’m not sure you can do anything,” he says finally. “He’ll be okay, once it’s done.”
That’s not the answer he was hoping for. “I don’t want him to be…I want this to be a good experience for him.”
Chase just shrugs.
A few moments later, House comes in, lugging Benedict with his arms around his middle. “We have to have the ice cream first,” he points out. “It’s part of the tradition.”
You can’t argue with tradition. “Okay,” Wilson says. “Get out some bowls and spoons.”
House condescends to dish up the ice cream as he and Chase finish prepping the pizza toppings. Two of the bowls get two scoops of ice cream each; the third has six. No one has any trouble guessing who that one is for.
House piles his mountain of ice cream with every topping, including the wasabi nuts. “I hope you know what you’re doing, putting those on there,” Wilson warns him. “If you don’t like them, you’re not getting a whole new sundae.” He has enough there that he should be able to eat around them.
“These are my favorite,” House assures him, eating a handful. He doesn’t spit them out, so apparently he really does like them. “Didja know that in Korea they put canned corn on ice cream?”
“Really?” Wilson wonders if they have any canned corn in the cupboard. He usually buys frozen vegetables.
“Uh-huh. It’s not as bad as it sounds. But I still don’t want any,” he adds, completing his sundae with a handful of chocolate-covered potato chips. “Benedict is sad that he doesn’t get any ice cream,” he adds.
“He’d be sadder if he had to spend the whole night being sick,” Chase answers.
“They make dog ice cream,” House points out.
“We didn’t buy any, though,” Wilson says. They bought pretty much everything else, but no dog ice cream.
“We’ll have to get some next time,” House decides.
They retire to the living room with the ice cream. House puts in a movie--something with talking animals.
House actually finishes most of his ice cream, although Wilson notices some lumps, half-submerged in the remaining puddle of melted ice cream, that look suspiciously like wasabi nuts. He very carefully lays down on his side, rubbing his belly and groaning.
“I guess you’re not quite ready for pizza,” Wilson says.
“Maybe later,” House moans. “I think I did it, though.”
“Did what?”
“Ate my weight in ice cream.”
Wilson had forgotten that was a goal of House’s. “Congratulations.”
#
By the time the movie ends, his stomach no longer feels like it’s going to explode. “Are we going to have the pizza?” he asks, as the credits roll.
“…sure,” Wilson says.
Wilson has to shape the pizza dough into rounds and then top them with sauce before they can start adding toppings. When House gets his, he lays down a base layer of cheese and starts putting pepperoni and sausage in concentric rings. Would chocolate covered potato chips be good on pizza?
Maybe not. He’ll just eat a couple while he’s waiting for pizza. “Can Benedict have pizza?”
“Maybe some crust,” Chase answers.
“I’m going to get a dog,” House confides. “A big hairy one. Maybe a Newfoundland. Or a Standard Poodle.”
“That’s great,” Chase says. “Puppies are a lot of work, though.”
“That’s what I have Wilson for,” House points out.
“How flattering,” Wilson murmurs.
“Maybe we’ll get a duck, too. Or a llama.”
“But not an elephant,” Chase adds.
“Nope. No elephants. We have a no-elephant policy.” He piles cheese on top of his toppings and lets Wilson put the pizza in the oven. “But I have to go back to work, too.” He’s not looking forward to that part of being old again. He won’t have as much time to do fun stuff. Plus, sick people. But he usually makes Chase and the others do the direct contact with the sick people, so maybe that part’s not so bad.
“Not for a couple of days,” Wilson reminds him.
“I know.” He’ll be able to ride his motorcycle, too. And have sex. Those are both good.
Still, he decides that he’s going to stay up and have fun for as long as possible. He can sleep tomorrow, when he’s old again. After eating the pizza, they play video games for a while, and then he teaches Chase how to play Dinosaur Soccer, until the game has to be called on account of Benedict trying to chew the players.
“Let’s take a walk,” he says, abandoning the game. It’s dark out, but not really late, yet. And if they tire Benedict out, they’ll be able to play without him getting in the way.
Chase and Wilson agree, and they walk to the small park at the end of the street. Their shadows shrink into their feet as they pass under each street light, only to reappear when they move into the light cast by the next one. Benedict barks and pounces on blowing leaves.
When they get to the park he climbs the ladder to the slide and, once he’s at the top, directs Wilson to hand Benedict to him. “He wants to slide, too.”
He slides down with Benedict in his lap. It’s fun, so they go again. After that he gives Benedict to Chase so that they can go on the swings.
“It’s too bad the ice cream truck doesn’t come at night,” he observes as they start walking home.
“Haven’t you had enough ice cream for one day?” Wilson asks, missing the point entirely.
“Maybe. But what about kids with porphyria?”
“I guess they get their ice cream at the all night grocery store,” Wilson answers.
“Maybe. Or the 7-11,” House agrees. “What should we do next?” he asks, as they go back into the house. “I wanna--” A yawn obscures what he wanted to do.
“How about a story?” Wilson suggests.
House was going to say Dinosaur Soccer, but a story sounds good too. He cuddles up next to Wilson on the couch, and Chase and Benedict do the same in the armchair. Wilson picks up the Paddington book.
“The one where he takes the driving test,” he requests, yawning again.
As Wilson reads, he feels his eyelids start to grow heavy. But it’s way too early! He wants to stay up very late.
Maybe he’ll just rest his eyes. That way, after the story, he’ll have plenty of energy for playing. That seems like a good idea. Nestling closer into Wilson’s side, he shuts his eyes.
The next thing he knows, Wilson’s carrying him down the hallway in the dark. “Waa?” he asks, squirming.
“Sssh. It’s okay, honey, go back to sleep.”
“’kay. But I wanna play dinosaurs. Inna minute.”
“Okay,” Wilson says, and then he’s asleep again.
On to Chapter 29