Nicholas

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 throat also hurt. Soon, he added his earlobe and his gut 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 considerate woman, or was it a man who was considerate? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He sympathetically squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the forest green walls or the cork or the hamper. He closed his eye and moaned pitifully.

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

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

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

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

"Uh-oh, your questions always come in pairs?" Nicholas walked to the refrigerator and got a glass of apricot juice. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied despondently, feeling a bit more crazy.

"Well, it wasn't the National Organization of Tax collectors that sent you here," Nicholas replied angrily.

"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 sling on the table next to Nicholas.

"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 Nicholas 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 hamper in the room. There was a stuffed owl on the hamper.

"If you're thinking about picking up that stuffed owl, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Nicholas spouted dolefully.

He wasn't thinking about taking the stuffed owl 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 breezed back to the bed and sat down. His nostril was beginning to swell.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Nicholas. He laughed out loud, then proposed "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 cockatiel back there in the laboratory." Nicholas rapped his fingers on the table beside the sling.

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

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

"Quincy Eriksson," 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 timid 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 proceeding on. Nice talking to you, Nicholas."

Although his nostril was still swelling, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the sling. Nicholas stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly quiet manner. Ignoring Nicholas's shy leer, he cunningly darted out of the room.

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