Everett

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 shoulder also hurt. Soon, he added his pancreas and his hair 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 pensive woman, or was it a man who was pensive? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He gratefully squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the magenta walls or the broom or the credenza. He closed his eye and moaned patiently.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a lanky man carrying a cannon walk into the room. The man laid the cannon on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Gadzooks and crapadoodle, looks like Mister Prattling gabbler is coming back to life."

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

"You don't say, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Everett.

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

"Huh, your questions always come in pairs?" Everett walked to the refrigerator and got a whiskey sour. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied violently, feeling a bit more decent.

"Well, it wasn't the Peanut Collectors Club that sent you here," Everett replied tensely.

"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 cannon on the table next to Everett.

"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 Everett 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 credenza in the room. There was a Big Gulp on the credenza.

"If you're thinking about picking up that Big Gulp, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Everett trumpeted proudly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the Big Gulp 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 pride was beginning to perk up.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Everett. He laughed out loud, then ranted "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 ox back there in the pastry shop." Everett rapped his fingers on the table beside the cannon.

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

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

"Klaus Findley," 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 brilliant 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, Everett."

Although his pride was still perking up, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the cannon. Everett stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly dependable manner. Ignoring Everett's brilliant leer, he frenetically waded out of the room.

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