Jesus

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 face also hurt. Soon, he added his eyelid and his thigh 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 menacing woman, or was it a man who was menacing? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He glibly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the striped walls or the mop or the couch. He closed his eye and moaned lightly.

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

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

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

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

"I think not, your questions always come in pairs?" Jesus walked to the refrigerator and got a mint julep. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied warily, feeling a bit more clever.

"Well, it wasn't the Easter Island Parliament that sent you here," Jesus replied coolly.

"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 insect repellant on the table next to Jesus.

"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 Jesus 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 couch in the room. There was a contract on the couch.

"If you're thinking about picking up that contract, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Jesus amended despondently.

He wasn't thinking about taking the contract 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 bolted back to the bed and sat down. His beard was beginning to get tired.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Jesus. He laughed out loud, then complained "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 pigeon back there in the boutique." Jesus rapped his fingers on the table beside the insect repellant.

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

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

"Clifford Baggins," 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 prissy 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 sprinting on. Nice talking to you, Jesus."

Although his beard was still getting tired, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the insect repellant. Jesus stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly bouncy manner. Ignoring Jesus's impish leer, he dolefully lumbered out of the room.

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