Paco

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 thyroid gland also hurt. Soon, he added his knee and his eyeball 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 zany woman, or was it a man who was zany? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He wearily squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the aqua walls or the can of beans or the coffee table. He closed his eye and moaned humbly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a slender man carrying a can of Raid walk into the room. The man laid the can of Raid on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Meh, looks like Mister Bugbrain is coming back to life."

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

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

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

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

"What accident?" he replied obediently, feeling a bit more mindless.

"Well, it wasn't the National Football League that sent you here," Paco replied uselessly.

"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 can of Raid on the table next to Paco.

"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 Paco 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 coffee table in the room. There was a crystal ball on the coffee table.

"If you're thinking about picking up that crystal ball, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Paco articulated craftily.

He wasn't thinking about taking the crystal ball 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 tore back to the bed and sat down. His heart was beginning to darken.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Paco. He laughed out loud, then affirmed "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 an ox back there in the bowling alley." Paco rapped his fingers on the table beside the can of Raid.

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

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

"Robert Craven," 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 nervous 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 zipping on. Nice talking to you, Paco."

Although his heart was still darkening, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the can of Raid. Paco stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly sketchy manner. Ignoring Paco's lazy leer, he oddly ran out of the room.

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