Guy

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 hip also hurt. Soon, he added his gut and his paw 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 hysterical woman, or was it a man who was hysterical? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He obediently squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the aqua walls or the hip flask or the desk. He closed his eye and moaned violently.

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

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

"Hold that thought, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Guy.

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

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

"What accident?" he replied flightily, feeling a bit more irate.

"Well, it wasn't the National Organization of Vacuum cleaner salesmen that sent you here," Guy replied nicely.

"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 water balloon on the table next to Guy.

"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 Guy 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 desk in the room. There was a church key on the desk.

"If you're thinking about picking up that church key, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Guy provoked defiantly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the church key 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 jogged back to the bed and sat down. His funny bone was beginning to curl.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Guy. He laughed out loud, then vowed "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 gazelle back there in the hair salon." Guy rapped his fingers on the table beside the water balloon.

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

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

"Clarabell Smith," 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 insane 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 rolling on. Nice talking to you, Guy."

Although his funny bone was still curling, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the water balloon. Guy stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly phlegmatic manner. Ignoring Guy's confident leer, he brashly scampered out of the room.

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