Little Mini Bert

“So, I was thinking,” Bert began. Quinn rolled his eyes.

“And then the world came to an end.”

“Hilarious,” Bert said sarcastically, shoveling another forkful of chicken and rice into his mouth. “But really, just listen for a second.”

Obliging his friend’s wishes, Quinn muted the TV and turned his attention to Bert.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Well, we’re playing a local show this weekend, right?” Bert asked, receiving a nod in response. “What if I brought mini Bert with me on stage and-”

“Back up,” Quinn interrupted. “First of all, mini Bert is a filly.”

“…a who?” Bert questioned dumbly.

“A girl.”

“Oh.”

“And we can’t take her on stage. She’s an animal, and just a baby at that. It could traumatize her for life.”

“Aw, come on, Quinny!” Bert exclaimed. “Everyone loves our concerts.” Quinn simply rolled his eyes.

“Let me tell you something, Bert,” he began. “I was raised around horses. I know how to take care of them. And letting a baby loose at a rock concert is not part of that process.”

“But Quinn,” Bert started to whine, “I’ve got a good reason!”

“There is no good reason.”

“I haven’t gotten high once since he- since she’s been here.” His words left Quinn in stunned silence. “Hell, I haven’t even had any alcohol.”

“Geez, Bert, it’s not like you’re its mother or something,” the guitarist said with a laugh. Bert caught the joke but didn’t so much as smile.

“Please, Quinn,” he said quietly. “I need the little horse. At least let me have her backstage…”

“…I do have that dog carrier in my car…”

Quinn would have spoken further, but was cut off by Bert’s loud squeal of joy.
-
“You’ve gotta stay back here, okay, little one?” the singer whispered to the front opening of the cage, laying a thin blanket over the box to help keep the baby warm. He heard a light whicker in response, and the horse grabbed the edge of the blanket between its teeth and began to chew. Grimacing, Bert reached between the closely spaced bars and placed one finger in the gap between the horse’s front and back teeth. The filly abruptly opened her mouth and released the blanket, making chewing motions with her jaw as Bert withdrew his hand and wiped the drool on his jacket.

“Guess that was a pretty useful trick after all…” he murmured to himself as he adjusted the cloth so the horse couldn’t possibly pull it off of the box and be discovered. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“I need security backstage pronto!” yelled someone nearby. Bert abruptly stood up and looked toward the approaching voice. “There’s another hobo in the building!”

“Very funny, Mark,” Bert said sarcastically, rolling his eyes for effect. The other man laughed.

“It ain’t my fault you look like a homeless guy,” he answered. Bert rolled his eyes again.

“Whatever. Hey, have you seen Je-”

“Bert!” It was the last thing the singer heard before being slammed into the floor by a clearly hyperactive Jeph.

“Haven’t you learned anything from Guitar Hero?” Bert asked as he shoved Jeph away and got to his feet. “‘It’s probably not a good idea to tackle your lead singer.’”

“But it’s fun!” he whined in response. Rolling his eyes one final time, Bert spun Jeph around and shoved him in the general direction of the stage.

“Go warm up or something,” he said with a flat tone. Jeph shrugged and continued walking, though the one stumbling step he took moments later had Bert questioning his friend’s sobriety.

“So, what’s in the box, Bert?” Mark asked, lifting up one corner of the blanket. Bert quickly swatted it out of his hand.

“Nothing. Just a box,” he answered shortly. Mark raised an eyebrow in automatic suspicion.

“Then you won’t care if I move it, right?” he asked slyly. “It’s kinda in the way.” He knelt down to pick up the plastic carrier. Bert quickly rushed to its side.

“No, it’s fine,” he said hurriedly. “I can get it. I’ll move it to the dressing room in the back.”

Mark shrugged and agreed to this, so the singer carefully lifted the carrier into his arms and began walking down the hallway leading to the room. He set the cage down in one corner.

“It’s okay, little mini,” he said softly. “You’ll be safe back here.”

“Bert! We’re on in five!” called the voice of their drummer, Dan. Bert gave the horse one last pet on the nose and ran out to the stage.
-
Jeph and Dan exchanged glances as Bert cued them to launch into another song. He seemed more on edge than usual, hardly even giving them time to breathe between songs. He had already gone through three bottles of water, and a full hour hadn’t even passed. His voice sounded alright, but Jeph was noticing a slight quiver on notes that Bert usually had no trouble reaching. Something was definitely up.

“This next song was one we played with some former friends,” Bert began. Quinn inwardly cringed; he already knew where this was going. “But we sound twice as great without them, especially their singer.” Several people in the crowd laughed at this, while others began to cheer. “You might’ve heard of them…My Chemical Romance?”

Meanwhile, the little horse had decided she was bored of remaining in the cold, dark cage. Her bright eyes latched onto the device Bert had used to lock her inside the box, and she quickly attached her teeth to the object and bit down. Nothing happened at first, but the device suddenly sprung back and stung the top surface of her mouth, leaving a painful but shallow scrape. The filly whinnied mournfully, wanting to be fed and loved and out of the enclosed space.

She tried again, this time leaning against the strange wire door; this time it opened easily and allowed her to escape. She happily trotted through the gap and immediately shivered from the cold air wafting in through the door. Her fine hair was hardly enough to keep her warm, so she tugged on the corner of the blanket until it fell on the floor and she could crawl underneath it and lift it across her back. Satisfied, her ears suddenly perked up as a strange sound met her ears. It sounded close, so she wandered toward the source.

“Oh, God, here we go again,” Quinn muttered to Jeph as they took the opportunity to rest from the nonstop playing. Instead of the glowing reaction Bert expected, the crowd responded with negative tones and yells. He let out a nervous smile, but inside he was crumbling. He needed something to distract their attention, and fast.

“So…uh…yeah, it’s called ‘Under Pressure’…and-”

Bert would have continued speaking if he hadn’t felt something suddenly clamp down on his right foot. He looked down and was startled to see the little horse standing as firmly as she could on his foot, though her hoof was hardly able to make an imprint in his shoe. He smiled briefly until he recalled the situation he had gotten himself into.

“Guys, take a break,” he said to the other band members, who looked grateful for the freedom. Jeph’s eyes suddenly fell on the short animal at Bert’s feet, but the singer stood between them before the psychotic man could think of anything to do to her.

“Everyone, I want you to meet a little friend of mine,” he said into the microphone. Most of the people noticed he was being serious and managed to calm down. “This is…well, she doesn’t really have a name other than ‘little one,’ but she’s still adorable.” He carefully picked up the horse and cradled her in his arms. The chorus of ‘Aww’s and ‘How cute’s served to bring a real smile to his face.

“Someone dropped her off at my doorstep in the middle of winter, so now I’m taking care of her. No idea who the hell decided I was qualified to take care of a baby horse, but hey, that’s not my decision.” He flashed a smile as he spoke and earned a few laughs in return. The horse licked his face with a pale pink tongue, and the crowd was moved to stare in awe at her cuteness once again. She began to wriggle in his grasp, so he set her back on the stage.

“Now, I may not be the best parent, but it is way past your bedtime, young lady,” he said jokingly, scratching the filly’s soft ears. “Hey Quinn, know any lullabies?”

Quinn rolled his eyes and walked over to the singer. “Sure, whatever.” He picked up his guitar and turned the volume down to about a fifth of what it was, then began playing an arpeggio of soft notes. “You should know this one, Bert,” he said with a wink. In fact, Bert did recognize it. Still smiling, he brought the microphone to his lips and began to sing.

“Lullaby and goodnight, go to sleep little baby…”

Quinn let out a quiet sigh. He couldn’t believe Bert was acting so…stupid. The crowd didn’t seem to be complaining; however, the little horse had decided the opposite was true. She began trotting away from the singer and slipped on a piece of tape on the edge of the stage, tumbling sideways off of the platform. Both Bert and Quinn ceased the song in a flash of horror as the singer ran to the front of the stage and dropped to his knees, reaching out towards the tiny horse in complete fear.

“Wait! Come back, little mini!” he called. Tears sprang to his eyes as he watched her weave her tiny body through the gaps between people in the crowd. One woman screamed and spilled her drink all over the baby, sending her into a frenzy. She bolted into any free space nearby and tried to hide underneath the tables in the back, but the crowd had already begun to panic as well.

The door opened suddenly, letting in a flutter of cold air from outside. The filly took her chance and galloped towards the only bit of freedom nearby, leaving Bert a nervous wreck as she sprinted out the door and into the winter weather.