Upton

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 aorta also hurt. Soon, he added his rib and his funny bone 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 sinister woman, or was it a man who was sinister? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He repeatedly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the grey walls or the houseplant or the water bed. He closed his eye and moaned crankily.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a dapper man carrying an atomic weapon walk into the room. The man laid the atomic weapon on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "I'll bet, looks like Mister Dork is coming back to life."

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

"Is that a fact, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Upton.

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

"Lord be praised, your questions always come in pairs?" Upton walked to the refrigerator and got a mint julep. "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 articulate.

"Well, it wasn't Friends of Weasels that sent you here," Upton replied slowly.

"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 atomic weapon on the table next to Upton.

"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 Upton 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 water bed in the room. There was a deck of cards on the water bed.

"If you're thinking about picking up that deck of cards, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Upton swore deliberately.

He wasn't thinking about taking the deck of cards 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 crawled back to the bed and sat down. His paw was beginning to get tangled.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Upton. He laughed out loud, then comforted "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 bear back there in the auto repair shop." Upton rapped his fingers on the table beside the atomic weapon.

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

"You tripped on a can of shaving cream. You took a bad fall. Who is this friend you were looking for?"

"Derek Akiyama," 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 brazen 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 sallying forth on. Nice talking to you, Upton."

Although his paw was still getting tangled, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the atomic weapon. Upton stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly cheerful manner. Ignoring Upton's polite leer, he reluctantly scurried out of the room.

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