Milton

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 hip also hurt. Soon, he added his kidney and his gut 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 threateningly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the jade walls or the stick of gum or the cushion. He closed his eye and moaned suavely.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a plump man carrying an iPod walk into the room. The man laid the iPod on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Jumpin’ Jehosaphat, looks like Mister Shrew is coming back to life."

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

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

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

"Ulp, your questions always come in pairs?" Milton walked to the refrigerator and got a cup of eggnog. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied confidently, feeling a bit more nonchalant.

"Well, it wasn't Drunkards Anonymous that sent you here," Milton replied humbly.

"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 iPod on the table next to Milton.

"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 Milton 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 cushion in the room. There was a smart phone on the cushion.

"If you're thinking about picking up that smart phone, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Milton imitated gratefully.

He wasn't thinking about taking the smart phone 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 tumbled back to the bed and sat down. His tooth was beginning to flip out.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Milton. He laughed out loud, then pleaded "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 duck-billed platypus back there in the drug store." Milton rapped his fingers on the table beside the iPod.

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

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

"Jim Bob Judd," 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 shiftless 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 proceeding on. Nice talking to you, Milton."

Although his tooth was still flipping out, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the iPod. Milton stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly coy manner. Ignoring Milton's brazen leer, he openly zoomed out of the room.

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