Barnabas

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 toupee also hurt. Soon, he added his buttocks and his toe 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 sweet woman, or was it a man who was sweet? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He cheerfully squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the terra cotta walls or the china doll or the sofa. He closed his eye and moaned dolorously.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a hairy man carrying a quick retort walk into the room. The man laid the quick retort on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Big deal, looks like Mister Dope is coming back to life."

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

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

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

"Dum de dum dum, your questions always come in pairs?" Barnabas walked to the refrigerator and got a root beer. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied perkily, feeling a bit more beautiful.

"Well, it wasn't the U.S. Embassy that sent you here," Barnabas replied nervously.

"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 quick retort on the table next to Barnabas.

"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 Barnabas 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 sofa in the room. There was an accordion on the sofa.

"If you're thinking about picking up that accordion, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Barnabas yowled diligently.

He wasn't thinking about taking the accordion 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 sprinted back to the bed and sat down. His gall bladder was beginning to turn around.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Barnabas. He laughed out loud, then revealed "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 muskrat back there in the café." Barnabas rapped his fingers on the table beside the quick retort.

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

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

"Alissa Marks," 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 enthusiastic 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 rushing on. Nice talking to you, Barnabas."

Although his gall bladder was still turning around, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the quick retort. Barnabas stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly excitable manner. Ignoring Barnabas's stinky leer, he unnaturally climbed out of the room.

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