Milo

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 wrist also hurt. Soon, he added his rib and his jaw 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 intrepid woman, or was it a man who was intrepid? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He deftly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the chocolate brown walls or the arrowhead or the credenza. He closed his eye and moaned uselessly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see an obese man carrying a peacemaker walk into the room. The man laid the peacemaker on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Moo, looks like Mister Worm 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 Milo.

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

"Exaltations, your questions always come in pairs?" Milo walked to the refrigerator and got a bottle of Gatorade. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied ferociously, feeling a bit more cocky.

"Well, it wasn't the International Guild of Librarians that sent you here," Milo replied shyly.

"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 Milo.

"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 Milo 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 credenza in the room. There was a horseshoe on the credenza.

"If you're thinking about picking up that horseshoe, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Milo jeered arrogantly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the horseshoe 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 sidled back to the bed and sat down. His paw was beginning to scale off.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Milo. He laughed out loud, then professed "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 aardvark back there in the clothing store." Milo rapped his fingers on the table beside the peacemaker.

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

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

"Heather Gotti," 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 conscientious 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 trotting on. Nice talking to you, Milo."

Although his paw was still scaling off, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the peacemaker. Milo stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly carefree manner. Ignoring Milo's sloppy leer, he glibly made a beeline out of the room.

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