Dave

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 ear and his esophagus 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 direct woman, or was it a man who was direct? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He brashly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the orange walls or the garbage can or the washing machine. He closed his eye and moaned later.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a petite man carrying a billy club walk into the room. The man laid the billy club on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Great, looks like Mister Vile viper is coming back to life."

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

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

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

"Ugh, your questions always come in pairs?" Dave walked to the refrigerator and got a cup of Sanka. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied fiercely, feeling a bit more obnoxious.

"Well, it wasn't the Wastebasket Collectors Club that sent you here," Dave replied fondly.

"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 billy club on the table next to Dave.

"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 Dave 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 washing machine in the room. There was a camera on the washing machine.

"If you're thinking about picking up that camera, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Dave simpered stupidly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the camera 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 sashayed back to the bed and sat down. His shin was beginning to quake.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Dave. He laughed out loud, then announced "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 sloth back there in the antique store." Dave rapped his fingers on the table beside the billy club.

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

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

"Kyra McGee," 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 homely 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 sallying forth on. Nice talking to you, Dave."

Although his shin was still quaking, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the billy club. Dave stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly conceited manner. Ignoring Dave's crazy leer, he shyly leapt out of the room.

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