Rex

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 spleen also hurt. Soon, he added his palm and his chest 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 an evil woman, or was it a man who was evil? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He thoughtfully squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the yellow walls or the cracker or the wooden crate. He closed his eye and moaned hastily.

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

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

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

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

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

"What accident?" he replied offhandedly, feeling a bit more decent.

"Well, it wasn't the Civil engineers of the World that sent you here," Rex replied queerly.

"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 stink bomb on the table next to Rex.

"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 Rex 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 wooden crate in the room. There was a blanket on the wooden crate.

"If you're thinking about picking up that blanket, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Rex grieved gingerly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the blanket 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 proceeded back to the bed and sat down. His carotid artery was beginning to expand.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Rex. He laughed out loud, then sniveled "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 ghost back there in the gym." Rex rapped his fingers on the table beside the stink bomb.

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

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

"Yolanda Woods," 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 taciturn 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 jogging on. Nice talking to you, Rex."

Although his carotid artery was still expanding, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the stink bomb. Rex stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly enthusiastic manner. Ignoring Rex's talkative leer, he dreamily ambled out of the room.

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