Smiley

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 spinal cord also hurt. Soon, he added his calf and his tummy 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 frenetically squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the terra cotta walls or the doll or the mattress. He closed his eye and moaned trustingly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see an athletic man carrying a Nerf bat walk into the room. The man laid the Nerf bat on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Crud, looks like Mister Dingleberry is coming back to life."

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

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

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

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

"What accident?" he replied gingerly, feeling a bit more eccentric.

"Well, it wasn't the National Association of Priests that sent you here," Smiley replied woodenly.

"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 Nerf bat on the table next to Smiley.

"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 Smiley 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 mattress in the room. There was a watering can on the mattress.

"If you're thinking about picking up that watering can, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Smiley suggested delicately.

He wasn't thinking about taking the watering can 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 walked back to the bed and sat down. His aorta was beginning to slide.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Smiley. He laughed out loud, then babbled "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 grasshopper back there in the convenience store." Smiley rapped his fingers on the table beside the Nerf bat.

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

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

"Steven Sandman," 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 heavyset 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 scampering on. Nice talking to you, Smiley."

Although his aorta was still sliding, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the Nerf bat. Smiley stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly hungry manner. Ignoring Smiley's gentle leer, he sleepily made a beeline out of the room.

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