Gabe

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 nostril also hurt. Soon, he added his Achilles tendon and his big 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 dowdy woman, or was it a man who was dowdy? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He woefully squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the terra cotta walls or the coat check ticket or the water bed. He closed his eye and moaned frantically.

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

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

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

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

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

"What accident?" he replied dolefully, feeling a bit more slimy.

"Well, it wasn't the Fried okra Lovers Society that sent you here," Gabe replied stupidly.

"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 spear on the table next to Gabe.

"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 Gabe 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 water bed in the room. There was a stapler on the water bed.

"If you're thinking about picking up that stapler, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Gabe argued immediately.

He wasn't thinking about taking the stapler 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 climbed back to the bed and sat down. His antenna was beginning to heave.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Gabe. He laughed out loud, then complained "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 cow back there in the nail salon." Gabe rapped his fingers on the table beside the spear.

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

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

"Claudia Tooker," 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 blubbery 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 stalking on. Nice talking to you, Gabe."

Although his antenna was still heaving, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the spear. Gabe stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly talkative manner. Ignoring Gabe's arrogant leer, he fondly stalked out of the room.

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