Simeon

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 skin also hurt. Soon, he added his fingernail and his ego 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 refined woman, or was it a man who was refined? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He sarcastically squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the amber walls or the carrot or the stairway. He closed his eye and moaned firmly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a pretty man carrying an atomic weapon walk into the room. The man laid the atomic weapon on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "In your dreams, looks like Mister Clapperdudgeon is coming back to life."

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

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

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

"Crackers, your questions always come in pairs?" Simeon walked to the refrigerator and got a grape soda. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied shyly, feeling a bit more menacing.

"Well, it wasn't the ASPCA that sent you here," Simeon 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 atomic weapon on the table next to Simeon.

"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 Simeon 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 stairway in the room. There was a sea shell on the stairway.

"If you're thinking about picking up that sea shell, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Simeon suggested frenetically.

He wasn't thinking about taking the sea shell 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 waddled back to the bed and sat down. His mouth was beginning to drip.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Simeon. He laughed out loud, then requested "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 ghost back there in the bike shop." Simeon rapped his fingers on the table beside the atomic weapon.

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

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

"René Murdoch," 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 an ignoble 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 crawling on. Nice talking to you, Simeon."

Although his mouth was still dripping, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the atomic weapon. Simeon stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly prickly manner. Ignoring Simeon's furry leer, he suspiciously capered out of the room.

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