Everett

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 hairdo also hurt. Soon, he added his tail and his stomach 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 shy woman, or was it a man who was shy? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He defiantly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the purple walls or the boomerang or the china cabinet. He closed his eye and moaned lamely.

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

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

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

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

"I don't think so, your questions always come in pairs?" Everett walked to the refrigerator and got a dose of cod liver oil. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied trustingly, feeling a bit more humble.

"Well, it wasn't the Government of Samoa that sent you here," Everett replied sagely.

"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 cobra on the table next to Everett.

"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 Everett 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 china cabinet in the room. There was an etching on the china cabinet.

"If you're thinking about picking up that etching, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Everett rationalized fiercely.

He wasn't thinking about taking the etching 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 waded back to the bed and sat down. His scalp was beginning to contract.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Everett. He laughed out loud, then decided "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 chameleon back there in the gym." Everett rapped his fingers on the table beside the cobra.

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

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

"Virginia Merton," 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 noxious 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 skipping on. Nice talking to you, Everett."

Although his scalp was still contracting, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the cobra. Everett stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly taciturn manner. Ignoring Everett's sinister leer, he calmly marched out of the room.

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