James

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 toupee also hurt. Soon, he added his hangnail and his intestine 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 wary woman, or was it a man who was wary? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He fiercely squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the silver walls or the bilge pump or the bunk bed. He closed his eye and moaned tearfully.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a sprightly man carrying an angry glare walk into the room. The man laid the angry glare on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Jumpin’ Jehosaphat, looks like Mister Dope fiend is coming back to life."

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

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

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

"Encore, your questions always come in pairs?" James walked to the refrigerator and got a root beer. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied woefully, feeling a bit more rugged.

"Well, it wasn't the Church of Saint Twigs that sent you here," James replied hysterically.

"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 angry glare on the table next to James.

"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 James 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 bunk bed in the room. There was a pink flamingo on the bunk bed.

"If you're thinking about picking up that pink flamingo, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," James yawned zestily.

He wasn't thinking about taking the pink flamingo 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 slid back to the bed and sat down. His tooth was beginning to pop.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse James. He laughed out loud, then exclaimed "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 an anaconda back there in the restaurant." James rapped his fingers on the table beside the angry glare.

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

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

"Lily Popper," 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 cute 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 scooting on. Nice talking to you, James."

Although his tooth was still popping, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the angry glare. James stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly depraved manner. Ignoring James's pensive leer, he curiously ambled out of the room.

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