Spud

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 tummy also hurt. Soon, he added his nose and his knuckle 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 smart woman, or was it a man who was smart? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He silently squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the burgundy walls or the tote bag or the footstool. He closed his eye and moaned diligently.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a sprightly man carrying a catheter walk into the room. The man laid the catheter on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "As if, looks like Mister Egomaniac is coming back to life."

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

"Stoked, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Spud.

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

"Tubular, your questions always come in pairs?" Spud walked to the refrigerator and got a Tom Collins. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied cheerfully, feeling a bit more prickly.

"Well, it wasn't the University of Illinois that sent you here," Spud replied trustingly.

"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 catheter on the table next to Spud.

"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 Spud 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 footstool in the room. There was a book on the footstool.

"If you're thinking about picking up that book, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Spud offered demurely.

He wasn't thinking about taking the book 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 bounded back to the bed and sat down. His knee was beginning to get cold.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Spud. He laughed out loud, then blubbered "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 flamingo back there in the deli." Spud rapped his fingers on the table beside the catheter.

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

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

"Joanne Case," 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 serious 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 bolting on. Nice talking to you, Spud."

Although his knee was still getting cold, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the catheter. Spud stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly lethargic manner. Ignoring Spud's merry leer, he patiently trekked out of the room.

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