Knuckles

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 jaw also hurt. Soon, he added his claw and his palm 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 an awkward woman, or was it a man who was awkward? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He sympathetically squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the black walls or the doily or the crib. He closed his eye and moaned excitedly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a wizened man carrying a baton walk into the room. The man laid the baton on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Sieg Heil, looks like Mister Cream puff is coming back to life."

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

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

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

"Ahoy, your questions always come in pairs?" Knuckles walked to the refrigerator and got a shot of whiskey. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied recklessly, feeling a bit more amiable.

"Well, it wasn't the Audubon Society that sent you here," Knuckles replied awkwardly.

"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 baton on the table next to Knuckles.

"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 Knuckles 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 crib in the room. There was a dollhouse on the crib.

"If you're thinking about picking up that dollhouse, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Knuckles screeched happily.

He wasn't thinking about taking the dollhouse 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 strode back to the bed and sat down. His spine was beginning to gnarl.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Knuckles. He laughed out loud, then smirked "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 garter snake back there in the tobacco shop." Knuckles rapped his fingers on the table beside the baton.

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

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

"Lucky Ford," 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 cocky 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 trekking on. Nice talking to you, Knuckles."

Although his spine was still gnarling, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the baton. Knuckles stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly angry manner. Ignoring Knuckles's serious leer, he sagely jogged out of the room.

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