Franklin

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 pride also hurt. Soon, he added his chin and his piehole 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 an unruffled woman, or was it a man who was unruffled? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He firmly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the pea green walls or the stamp or the counter. He closed his eye and moaned warmly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a dark man carrying a hammer walk into the room. The man laid the hammer on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Like fun, looks like Mister Rat is coming back to life."

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

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

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

"Dang it, your questions always come in pairs?" Franklin walked to the refrigerator and got a shot of whiskey. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied sarcastically, feeling a bit more witty.

"Well, it wasn't the National Rifle Association that sent you here," Franklin replied nicely.

"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 hammer on the table next to Franklin.

"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 Franklin 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 counter in the room. There was a yo-yo on the counter.

"If you're thinking about picking up that yo-yo, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Franklin tittered rapidly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the yo-yo 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 scurried back to the bed and sat down. His aorta was beginning to blossom.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Franklin. He laughed out loud, then sighed "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 dragon back there in the cigar store." Franklin rapped his fingers on the table beside the hammer.

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

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

"Penny Harmon," 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 drowsy 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 diving on. Nice talking to you, Franklin."

Although his aorta was still blossoming, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the hammer. Franklin stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly sweet manner. Ignoring Franklin's stinky leer, he fondly dashed out of the room.

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