Devon

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 finger also hurt. Soon, he added his lip and his spleen 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 dignified woman, or was it a man who was dignified? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He admiringly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the orange walls or the yo-yo or the ping-pong table. He closed his eye and moaned ferociously.

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

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

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

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

"Ho hum, your questions always come in pairs?" Devon walked to the refrigerator and got a rum and Coke. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied victoriously, feeling a bit more stubborn.

"Well, it wasn't the Social workers Club that sent you here," Devon replied warmly.

"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 peacemaker on the table next to Devon.

"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 Devon 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 ping-pong table in the room. There was a package on the ping-pong table.

"If you're thinking about picking up that package, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Devon disputed suddenly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the package 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 strolled back to the bed and sat down. His tail was beginning to flex.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Devon. He laughed out loud, then quavered "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 chicken back there in the antique store." Devon rapped his fingers on the table beside the peacemaker.

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

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

"René Douglas," 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 frumpy 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 sliding on. Nice talking to you, Devon."

Although his tail was still flexing, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the peacemaker. Devon stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly homely manner. Ignoring Devon's stern leer, he sourly cantered out of the room.

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