Garrett

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 arm also hurt. Soon, he added his hip and his wig 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 crazy woman, or was it a man who was crazy? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He grudgingly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the sparkly walls or the hip flask or the pedestal. He closed his eye and moaned bravely.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a scruffy man carrying a stash of bribe money walk into the room. The man laid the stash of bribe money on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Oh please, looks like Mister Ne'er-do-well is coming back to life."

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

"Ha-ha, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Garrett.

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

"Oops, your questions always come in pairs?" Garrett walked to the refrigerator and got a piña colada. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied awkwardly, feeling a bit more friendly.

"Well, it wasn't the National Endowment for the Preservation of Calculators that sent you here," Garrett replied stealthily.

"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 stash of bribe money on the table next to Garrett.

"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 Garrett 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 pedestal in the room. There was a fish on the pedestal.

"If you're thinking about picking up that fish, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Garrett spouted vacantly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the fish 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 rolled back to the bed and sat down. His spinal cord was beginning to decay.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Garrett. He laughed out loud, then proposed "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 goat back there in the antique store." Garrett rapped his fingers on the table beside the stash of bribe money.

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

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

"Carla Henry," 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 puzzled 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 swaggering on. Nice talking to you, Garrett."

Although his spinal cord was still decaying, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the stash of bribe money. Garrett stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly exuberant manner. Ignoring Garrett's disagreeable leer, he awkwardly hobbled out of the room.

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