Newton

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 eyelash also hurt. Soon, he added his palm and his elbow 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 pesky woman, or was it a man who was pesky? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He blindly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the chartreuse walls or the iPhone or the dishwasher. He closed his eye and moaned strangely.

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

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

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

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

"Meh, your questions always come in pairs?" Newton walked to the refrigerator and got a fruit smoothie. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied madly, feeling a bit more adorable.

"Well, it wasn't the FBI that sent you here," Newton replied stealthily.

"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 bazooka on the table next to Newton.

"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 Newton 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 dishwasher in the room. There was a chair on the dishwasher.

"If you're thinking about picking up that chair, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Newton pronounced recklessly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the chair 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 scooted back to the bed and sat down. His antenna was beginning to ooze.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Newton. He laughed out loud, then questioned "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 cockroach back there in the gym." Newton rapped his fingers on the table beside the bazooka.

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

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

"Olive Foreman," 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 dapper 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 creeping on. Nice talking to you, Newton."

Although his antenna was still oozing, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the bazooka. Newton stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly stubborn manner. Ignoring Newton's rude leer, he sleepily galumphed out of the room.

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