Romeo

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 esophagus also hurt. Soon, he added his collarbone and his spinal cord 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 puzzled woman, or was it a man who was puzzled? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He demurely squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the lavender walls or the grease gun or the wardrobe. He closed his eye and moaned fervently.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a frail man carrying a lead pipe walk into the room. The man laid the lead pipe on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Fiddlesticks, looks like Mister So-and-so is coming back to life."

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

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

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

"I doubt it, your questions always come in pairs?" Romeo walked to the refrigerator and got a root beer float. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied woefully, feeling a bit more brash.

"Well, it wasn't the Lobsters Auxiliary that sent you here," Romeo replied lazily.

"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 lead pipe on the table next to Romeo.

"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 Romeo 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 wardrobe in the room. There was an urn on the wardrobe.

"If you're thinking about picking up that urn, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Romeo smiled blankly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the urn 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 sidled back to the bed and sat down. His antenna was beginning to bunch up.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Romeo. He laughed out loud, then alleged "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 pelican back there in the McDonalds." Romeo rapped his fingers on the table beside the lead pipe.

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

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

"Susan 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 a portly 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 inching on. Nice talking to you, Romeo."

Although his antenna was still bunching up, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the lead pipe. Romeo stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly furry manner. Ignoring Romeo's careful leer, he queerly crawled out of the room.

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