Klaus

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 eyeball also hurt. Soon, he added his midriff and his thyroid gland 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 megalomaniacal woman, or was it a man who was megalomaniacal? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He impatiently squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the jet black walls or the fork or the dishwasher. He closed his eye and moaned patiently.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a cute man carrying a flashlight walk into the room. The man laid the flashlight on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Knock me over with a feather, looks like Mister Flake is coming back to life."

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, it wasn't the Church of Saint Hephzibah that sent you here," Klaus replied queerly.

"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 flashlight on the table next to Klaus.

"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 Klaus 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 dishwasher in the room. There was a flyswatter on the dishwasher.

"If you're thinking about picking up that flyswatter, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Klaus concluded lamely.

He wasn't thinking about taking the flyswatter 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 reeled back to the bed and sat down. His hoof was beginning to grow.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Klaus. He laughed out loud, then squealed "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 hog back there in the burger joint." Klaus rapped his fingers on the table beside the flashlight.

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

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

"Bobby Frizzlewump," 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 jaunty 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 swinging on. Nice talking to you, Klaus."

Although his hoof was still growing, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the flashlight. Klaus stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly hungry manner. Ignoring Klaus's daring leer, he dubiously tramped out of the room.

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