Cyrus

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 abdomen also hurt. Soon, he added his gall bladder and his elbow 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 mindless woman, or was it a man who was mindless? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He jokingly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the olive green walls or the mirror or the hamper. He closed his eye and moaned thoughtfully.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a sleek man carrying an accordion walk into the room. The man laid the accordion on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Grrrrr, looks like Mister Crazy person is coming back to life."

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

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

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

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

"What accident?" he replied temperamentally, feeling a bit more artistic.

"Well, it wasn't Friends of Bears that sent you here," Cyrus replied quietly.

"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 accordion on the table next to Cyrus.

"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 Cyrus 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 can of beans on the hamper.

"If you're thinking about picking up that can of beans, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Cyrus moaned narrowly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the can of beans 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 padded back to the bed and sat down. His eye was beginning to heat up.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Cyrus. He laughed out loud, then prattled "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 bunny back there in the candy store." Cyrus rapped his fingers on the table beside the accordion.

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

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

"Jacob Flynn," 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 irate 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 lurching on. Nice talking to you, Cyrus."

Although his eye was still heating up, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the accordion. Cyrus stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly tall manner. Ignoring Cyrus's comely leer, he rapidly went out of the room.

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