Howard

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 ego also hurt. Soon, he added his head 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 a dismal woman, or was it a man who was dismal? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He languidly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the mauve walls or the flash drive or the chair. He closed his eye and moaned suspiciously.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a tall man carrying a shoulder fired rocket walk into the room. The man laid the shoulder fired rocket on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "By all the saints at the backside door of purgatory, looks like Mister Dingbat is coming back to life."

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

"Boy oh boy, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Howard.

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

"Never mind, your questions always come in pairs?" Howard walked to the refrigerator and got a double latte. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied daintily, feeling a bit more suave.

"Well, it wasn't the Humane Society that sent you here," Howard replied cautiously.

"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 shoulder fired rocket on the table next to Howard.

"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 Howard 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 chair in the room. There was a Kindle on the chair.

"If you're thinking about picking up that Kindle, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Howard fumed merrily.

He wasn't thinking about taking the Kindle 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 tiptoed back to the bed and sat down. His buttocks was beginning to feel funny.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Howard. He laughed out loud, then laughed "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 opossum back there in the popcorn shop." Howard rapped his fingers on the table beside the shoulder fired rocket.

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

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

"Alan Klein," 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 thoughtful 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 barrelling on. Nice talking to you, Howard."

Although his buttocks was still feeling funny, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the shoulder fired rocket. Howard stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly perky manner. Ignoring Howard's excitable leer, he lovingly tramped out of the room.

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