Eubie

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 jaw also hurt. Soon, he added his aorta and his hip 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 sober woman, or was it a man who was sober? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He sharply squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the aquamarine walls or the mushroom or the bookcase. He closed his eye and moaned merrily.

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

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

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

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

"Godspeed, your questions always come in pairs?" Eubie walked to the refrigerator and got a Long Island iced tea. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied wryly, feeling a bit more garrulous.

"Well, it wasn't Alcoholics Anonymous that sent you here," Eubie replied peevishly.

"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 syringe on the table next to Eubie.

"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 Eubie 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 bookcase in the room. There was a tube of toothpaste on the bookcase.

"If you're thinking about picking up that tube of toothpaste, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Eubie protested demurely.

He wasn't thinking about taking the tube of toothpaste 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 strolled back to the bed and sat down. His front tooth was beginning to sink.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Eubie. He laughed out loud, then belched "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 squirrel back there in the office supply store." Eubie rapped his fingers on the table beside the syringe.

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

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

"Lois Bunyan," 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 gentle 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 skittering on. Nice talking to you, Eubie."

Although his front tooth was still sinking, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the syringe. Eubie stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly friendly manner. Ignoring Eubie's hysterical leer, he haughtily whirled out of the room.

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