Conrad

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 head also hurt. Soon, he added his heel and his heel 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 vile woman, or was it a man who was vile? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He violently squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the peach walls or the hand puppet or the water bed. He closed his eye and moaned merrily.

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

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

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

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

"Heck, your questions always come in pairs?" Conrad walked to the refrigerator and got a hot buttered rum. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied automatically, feeling a bit more blubbery.

"Well, it wasn't the Church of Saint Katherine that sent you here," Conrad replied elatedly.

"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 dagger on the table next to Conrad.

"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 Conrad 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 lemon on the water bed.

"If you're thinking about picking up that lemon, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Conrad blurted cruelly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the lemon 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 galumphed back to the bed and sat down. His ear was beginning to get soft.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Conrad. He laughed out loud, then smirked "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 camel back there in the souvenir shop." Conrad rapped his fingers on the table beside the dagger.

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

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

"Grover Dowd," 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 sober 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 whirling on. Nice talking to you, Conrad."

Although his ear was still getting soft, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the dagger. Conrad stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly bilious manner. Ignoring Conrad's decisive leer, he nonchalantly barrelled out of the room.

Next Chapter