Archie

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 belly button also hurt. Soon, he added his finger and his leg 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 conscientious woman, or was it a man who was conscientious? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He shyly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the chocolate brown walls or the mop or the bath mat. He closed his eye and moaned sharply.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a demonic man carrying a hedge trimmer walk into the room. The man laid the hedge trimmer on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Why, looks like Mister Imposter is coming back to life."

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

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

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

"Mother of peanut butter, your questions always come in pairs?" Archie walked to the refrigerator and got a gin sour. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied anxiously, feeling a bit more brilliant.

"Well, it wasn't the Fire Department that sent you here," Archie replied haughtily.

"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 hedge trimmer on the table next to Archie.

"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 Archie 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 bath mat in the room. There was a rope on the bath mat.

"If you're thinking about picking up that rope, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Archie screeched automatically.

He wasn't thinking about taking the rope 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 slithered back to the bed and sat down. His eyelid was beginning to quake.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Archie. He laughed out loud, then chanted "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 worm back there in the video arcade." Archie rapped his fingers on the table beside the hedge trimmer.

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

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

"Vera Pryor," 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 an obedient 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 flying on. Nice talking to you, Archie."

Although his eyelid was still quaking, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the hedge trimmer. Archie stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly cute manner. Ignoring Archie's direct leer, he arrogantly whirled out of the room.

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