Randy

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 adrenal gland also hurt. Soon, he added his beard and his earlobe 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 lazy woman, or was it a man who was lazy? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He unexpectedly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the orange walls or the bird cage or the coffee table. He closed his eye and moaned immediately.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a feeble man carrying a magic spell walk into the room. The man laid the magic spell on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Great Jehosaphat, looks like Mister Mush-for-brains is coming back to life."

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

"Bless my britches, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Randy.

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

"Oh dear, your questions always come in pairs?" Randy walked to the refrigerator and got a can of Ensure. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied viciously, feeling a bit more decent.

"Well, it wasn't the Humane Society that sent you here," Randy replied sagely.

"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 magic spell on the table next to Randy.

"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 Randy 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 coffee table in the room. There was a padlock on the coffee table.

"If you're thinking about picking up that padlock, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Randy agreed thankfully.

He wasn't thinking about taking the padlock 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 tramped back to the bed and sat down. His hairdo was beginning to jerk.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Randy. He laughed out loud, then comforted "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 tropical fish back there in the ice cream parlor." Randy rapped his fingers on the table beside the magic spell.

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

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

"Eric Finney," 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 hungry 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 storming on. Nice talking to you, Randy."

Although his hairdo was still jerking, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the magic spell. Randy stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly powerful manner. Ignoring Randy's boring leer, he steadily leapt out of the room.

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