Kenny

His head was muddled and it was dark. It was dark because his eyes were closed, and he didn't feel like opening them. His head hurt. He considered that briefly, then became aware that his foot also hurt. Soon, he added his collarbone and his beard to the list, and thought it might be more productive to make a list of what didn't hurt. No, that produced nothing.

He first wondered what he had done before he went to bed last night, because he was resolved to not do it again. He tried to stop thinking about anything, because it hurt to think.

Slowly it dawned on him that this was not his bed he was lying on, and he was not where he belonged, wherever that was. He thought there had been a muddled woman, or was it a man who was muddled? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He caustically squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the red walls or the stick or the hamper. He closed his eye and moaned sagely.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a tattooed man carrying a blow pipe walk into the room. The man laid the blow pipe on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Rooster feathers, looks like Mister Dweeb is coming back to life."

He suppressed another moan and asked, "Where am I? And who are you?"

"For cryin' out loud, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Kenny.

That was all he wanted to try to absorb at the moment anyway, so he closed his eye again and tried to get angry. He immediately opened both eyes and asked, "What am I here for? Can I have something to drink?"

"For Pete's sake, your questions always come in pairs?" Kenny walked to the refrigerator and got a hot buttered rum. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied demurely, feeling a bit more crazy.

"Well, it wasn't the Jehovah's Witness Society that sent you here," Kenny replied peevishly.

"And this doesn't look like a hospital. By the way, where's the bathroom? Who are you working for?" He did need the bathroom, but he also wanted to scope the place out a bit. He wasn't forgetting the blow pipe on the table next to Kenny.

"There you go again. That's two questions. The bathroom's over there," he said, gesturing with his head.

Sitting up slowly and gingerly, he looked around the room. The bathroom door was to his left. The other door was in front of him, beside Kenny who had sat in a chair next to the small table. There were no windows, and just the bed, the table, the refrigerator, and a hamper in the room. There was a hot potato on the hamper.

"If you're thinking about picking up that hot potato, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Kenny yammered deliberately.

He wasn't thinking about taking the hot potato at the moment. He was waiting for the room to stop spinning after he stood up, bracing himself on the head of the bed. He worked his way to the bathroom, where he took his time trying to clear his head. He splashed some water on his face, then lumbered back to the bed and sat down. His hip was beginning to jerk.

"If it's not too much trouble, how about you call me a cab now?"

This seemed to genuinely amuse Kenny. He laughed out loud, then spoke up "You won't be needing a cab to get where you're going."

Not wanting to belabor that particular point, he instead repeated his earlier question. "Who are you working for?"

"So let's you tell me who you're working for, and why you were snooping around like a yeti back there in the drug store." Kenny rapped his fingers on the table beside the blow pipe.

"I was looking for my friend. Who hit me?"

"You tripped on a pearl. You took a bad fall. Who is this friend you were looking for?"

"Tina McCarthy," he lied. "Who do you work for, and why are you keeping me here?"

"Nobody's keeping you here. That would be way too much trouble. Who wants to deal with a monstrous guest? We just wanted to chat while we help you get back on your feet."

"Okay, we chatted and I'm on my feet," (barely, he thought to himself), "so I'll just be setting out on. Nice talking to you, Kenny."

Although his hip was still jerking, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the blow pipe. Kenny stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly naïve manner. Ignoring Kenny's arrogant leer, he jokingly waded out of the room.

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