Reginald

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 cheek also hurt. Soon, he added his thigh and his toupee 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 slimy woman, or was it a man who was slimy? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He curiously squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the black walls or the crutch or the toilet. He closed his eye and moaned humbly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see an attractive man carrying a photon torpedo walk into the room. The man laid the photon torpedo on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Umm, looks like Mister Old coot is coming back to life."

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

"Gadzooks and crapadoodle, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Reginald.

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

"Can you dig it?, your questions always come in pairs?" Reginald walked to the refrigerator and got a Harvey Wallbanger. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied uselessly, feeling a bit more freakish.

"Well, it wasn't the International Guild of Silversmiths that sent you here," Reginald replied suavely.

"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 photon torpedo on the table next to Reginald.

"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 Reginald 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 toilet in the room. There was a candy bar on the toilet.

"If you're thinking about picking up that candy bar, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Reginald croaked proudly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the candy bar 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 proceeded back to the bed and sat down. His kidney was beginning to shiver.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Reginald. He laughed out loud, then voiced "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 llama back there in the pharmacy." Reginald rapped his fingers on the table beside the photon torpedo.

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

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

"Joe Saint Pierre," 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 naïve 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 striding on. Nice talking to you, Reginald."

Although his kidney was still shivering, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the photon torpedo. Reginald stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly presumptuous manner. Ignoring Reginald's athletic leer, he sleepily slumped out of the room.

Next Chapter