Harry

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 elbow also hurt. Soon, he added his toe and his hip 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 timid woman, or was it a man who was timid? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He firmly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the beige walls or the stapler or the cushion. He closed his eye and moaned sorrowfully.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see an athletic man carrying an air freshener walk into the room. The man laid the air freshener on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Now we're talking, looks like Mister Worm is coming back to life."

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

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

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

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

"What accident?" he replied breathlessly, feeling a bit more enthusiastic.

"Well, it wasn't the Church of God that sent you here," Harry replied gratefully.

"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 air freshener on the table next to Harry.

"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 Harry 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 ticket on the cushion.

"If you're thinking about picking up that ticket, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Harry roared admiringly.

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 scampered back to the bed and sat down. His toenail was beginning to feel weird.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Harry. He laughed out loud, then whined "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 goblin back there in the laboratory." Harry rapped his fingers on the table beside the air freshener.

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

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

"Frankie Holiday," 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 an intrepid 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 stalking on. Nice talking to you, Harry."

Although his toenail was still feeling weird, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the air freshener. Harry stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly polite manner. Ignoring Harry's statuesque leer, he dolefully ambled out of the room.

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