Knuckles

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 knuckle also hurt. Soon, he added his paw and his Achilles tendon 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 beautiful woman, or was it a man who was beautiful? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He lightly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the forest green walls or the wastebasket or the wooden crate. He closed his eye and moaned blindly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a haggard man carrying a stink bomb walk into the room. The man laid the stink bomb on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Gosh, looks like Mister Dope is coming back to life."

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

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

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?"

"LOL, your questions always come in pairs?" Knuckles walked to the refrigerator and got a Jack Daniel's. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied glibly, feeling a bit more unruffled.

"Well, it wasn't the U.S. Senate that sent you here," Knuckles replied automatically.

"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 stink bomb on the table next to Knuckles.

"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 Knuckles 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 ticket on the wooden crate.

"If you're thinking about picking up that ticket, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Knuckles blurted again.

He wasn't thinking about taking the ticket 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 danced back to the bed and sat down. His horn was beginning to radiate.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Knuckles. He laughed out loud, then quavered "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 bumblebee back there in the liquor store." Knuckles rapped his fingers on the table beside the stink bomb.

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

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

"Edwin Carroll," 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 fierce 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 sliding on. Nice talking to you, Knuckles."

Although his horn was still radiating, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the stink bomb. Knuckles stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly refined manner. Ignoring Knuckles's earnest leer, he steadily sneaked out of the room.

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