Garrick

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 abdomen also hurt. Soon, he added his shin and his ear 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 dumb woman, or was it a man who was dumb? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He innocently squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the violet walls or the stick of gum or the billiard table. He closed his eye and moaned cheerfully.

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

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

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

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

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

"What accident?" he replied firmly, feeling a bit more brilliant.

"Well, it wasn't the Audubon Society that sent you here," Garrick replied later.

"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 mace on the table next to Garrick.

"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 Garrick 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 billiard table in the room. There was an acorn on the billiard table.

"If you're thinking about picking up that acorn, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Garrick spouted joyously.

He wasn't thinking about taking the acorn 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 trekked back to the bed and sat down. His collarbone was beginning to roast.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Garrick. He laughed out loud, then blurted "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 an android back there in the craft store." Garrick rapped his fingers on the table beside the mace.

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

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

"Hazel Allen," 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 cowardly 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 careening on. Nice talking to you, Garrick."

Although his collarbone was still roasting, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the mace. Garrick stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly frantic manner. Ignoring Garrick's gentle leer, he shyly sprinted out of the room.

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