Carlton

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 toupee also hurt. Soon, he added his liver and his piehole 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 clever woman, or was it a man who was clever? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He softly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the beige walls or the toothbrush or the mattress. He closed his eye and moaned unexpectedly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a beautiful man carrying a photon torpedo walk into the room. The man laid the photon torpedo on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Say what, looks like Mister Bandicoot is coming back to life."

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

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

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

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

"What accident?" he replied furiously, feeling a bit more atrocious.

"Well, it wasn't the Fraternal Order of Garter snakes that sent you here," Carlton replied silently.

"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 photon torpedo on the table next to Carlton.

"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 Carlton 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 mattress in the room. There was a chess set on the mattress.

"If you're thinking about picking up that chess set, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Carlton worried narrowly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the chess set 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 zipped back to the bed and sat down. His skull was beginning to move.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Carlton. He laughed out loud, then questioned "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 fish back there in the souvenir shop." Carlton rapped his fingers on the table beside the photon torpedo.

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

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

"Rodney André," 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 dark 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 sallying forth on. Nice talking to you, Carlton."

Although his skull was still moving, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the photon torpedo. Carlton stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly brazen manner. Ignoring Carlton's pensive leer, he nicely darted out of the room.

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