Kevin

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 beard also hurt. Soon, he added his knuckle and his eye 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 diabolical woman, or was it a man who was diabolical? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He intensely squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the fuchsia walls or the bullet or the bench. He closed his eye and moaned despondently.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a curvy man carrying a blow gun walk into the room. The man laid the blow gun on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "What in tarnation, looks like Mister Peabrain is coming back to life."

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

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

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

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

"What accident?" he replied ingeniously, feeling a bit more polite.

"Well, it wasn't the Communist Party that sent you here," Kevin replied vigorously.

"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 blow gun on the table next to Kevin.

"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 Kevin 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 bench in the room. There was a Big Gulp on the bench.

"If you're thinking about picking up that Big Gulp, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Kevin blustered daintily.

He wasn't thinking about taking the Big Gulp 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 went back to the bed and sat down. His spine was beginning to writhe.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Kevin. He laughed out loud, then grunted "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 lizard back there in the McDonalds." Kevin rapped his fingers on the table beside the blow gun.

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

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

"Mandy Shelby," 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 powerful 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 slumping on. Nice talking to you, Kevin."

Although his spine was still writhing, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the blow gun. Kevin stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly childish manner. Ignoring Kevin's brazen leer, he temperamentally set out out of the room.

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