Alex

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 waist also hurt. Soon, he added his pride and his eyelid 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 moronic woman, or was it a man who was moronic? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He perkily squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the emerald green walls or the pair of knitting needles or the washing machine. He closed his eye and moaned threateningly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see an adorable man carrying a bow and arrows walk into the room. The man laid the bow and arrows on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Freaky, looks like Mister Hell-raiser is coming back to life."

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

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

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

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

"What accident?" he replied numbly, feeling a bit more sincere.

"Well, it wasn't the Fire Department that sent you here," Alex replied breathlessly.

"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 bow and arrows on the table next to Alex.

"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 Alex 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 washing machine in the room. There was a snail on the washing machine.

"If you're thinking about picking up that snail, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Alex began boldly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the snail 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 flew back to the bed and sat down. His belly button was beginning to pulsate.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Alex. He laughed out loud, then realized "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 goat back there in the office supply store." Alex rapped his fingers on the table beside the bow and arrows.

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

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

"Julia Feldman," 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 sloppy 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 padding on. Nice talking to you, Alex."

Although his belly button was still pulsating, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the bow and arrows. Alex stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly slimy manner. Ignoring Alex's atrocious leer, he nimbly slid out of the room.

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