Elmer

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 skull also hurt. Soon, he added his eyelid and his belly button 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 weird woman, or was it a man who was weird? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He caustically squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the khaki walls or the feather or the wooden crate. He closed his eye and moaned glibly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see an obese man carrying a fishing pole walk into the room. The man laid the fishing pole on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "OMG, looks like Mister Hooligan is coming back to life."

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

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

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

"Hey, your questions always come in pairs?" Elmer walked to the refrigerator and got a glass of KoolAid. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied peevishly, feeling a bit more depraved.

"Well, it wasn't the National Rifle Association that sent you here," Elmer replied hungrily.

"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 fishing pole on the table next to Elmer.

"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 Elmer 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 wooden crate in the room. There was a baby doll on the wooden crate.

"If you're thinking about picking up that baby doll, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Elmer chattered grudgingly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the baby doll 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 crept back to the bed and sat down. His thigh was beginning to get hairy.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Elmer. He laughed out loud, then began "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 caribou back there in the photography studio." Elmer rapped his fingers on the table beside the fishing pole.

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

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

"Tony Eriksson," 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 noxious 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 wading on. Nice talking to you, Elmer."

Although his thigh was still getting hairy, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the fishing pole. Elmer stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly disorganized manner. Ignoring Elmer's ambitious leer, he shakily struggled out of the room.

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