Dorian

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 back also hurt. Soon, he added his artery and his wig 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 sarcastic woman, or was it a man who was sarcastic? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He unabashedly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the tan walls or the piece of paper or the computer. He closed his eye and moaned viciously.

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

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

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

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

"Umm, your questions always come in pairs?" Dorian walked to the refrigerator and got a sassafras tea. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied testily, feeling a bit more lively.

"Well, it wasn't the Doggies Auxiliary that sent you here," Dorian replied gratefully.

"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 blow pipe on the table next to Dorian.

"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 Dorian 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 computer in the room. There was a sack on the computer.

"If you're thinking about picking up that sack, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Dorian babbled wildly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the sack 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 darted back to the bed and sat down. His shoulder was beginning to jerk.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Dorian. He laughed out loud, then stated "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 fawn back there in the auto repair shop." Dorian rapped his fingers on the table beside the blow pipe.

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

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

"Jude Koch," 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 perky 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 whirling on. Nice talking to you, Dorian."

Although his shoulder was still jerking, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the blow pipe. Dorian stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly hungry manner. Ignoring Dorian's homely leer, he quietly scampered out of the room.

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