Maloney

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 jaw also hurt. Soon, he added his claw and his skull 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 an enchanting woman, or was it a man who was enchanting? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He blankly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the peach walls or the fountain pen or the armoire. He closed his eye and moaned kindly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see an obese man carrying an insult walk into the room. The man laid the insult on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Cock-a-doodle-doo, looks like Mister Halfwit is coming back to life."

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

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

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

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

"What accident?" he replied coldly, feeling a bit more dumb.

"Well, it wasn't the International Brotherhood of private first classs in the Irish Army that sent you here," Maloney replied wearily.

"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 insult on the table next to Maloney.

"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 Maloney who had sat in a chair next to the small table. There were no windows, and just the bed, the table, the refrigerator, and an armoire in the room. There was a Bible on the armoire.

"If you're thinking about picking up that Bible, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Maloney sighed suavely.

He wasn't thinking about taking the Bible 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 jumped back to the bed and sat down. His neck was beginning to go crazy.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Maloney. He laughed out loud, then screamed "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 frog back there in the newsstand." Maloney rapped his fingers on the table beside the insult.

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

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

"Lorena Craft," 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 lethargic 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 slumping on. Nice talking to you, Maloney."

Although his neck was still going crazy, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the insult. Maloney stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly heavyset manner. Ignoring Maloney's intelligent leer, he again blundered out of the room.

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