Marvin

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 kneecap also hurt. Soon, he added his abdomen and his finger 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 demented woman, or was it a man who was demented? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He lazily squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the white walls or the yardstick or the windowsill. He closed his eye and moaned slowly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a frail man carrying a six-pack walk into the room. The man laid the six-pack on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Kaboom, looks like Mister Low-life is coming back to life."

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

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

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

"Hurray, your questions always come in pairs?" Marvin walked to the refrigerator and got a V8. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied carefully, feeling a bit more tall.

"Well, it wasn't the National Organization of Race car drivers that sent you here," Marvin replied sourly.

"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 six-pack on the table next to Marvin.

"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 Marvin 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 windowsill in the room. There was a feather duster on the windowsill.

"If you're thinking about picking up that feather duster, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Marvin jeered breathlessly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the feather duster 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 jumped back to the bed and sat down. His face was beginning to tighten up.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Marvin. He laughed out loud, then mentioned "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 flea back there in the haberdashery." Marvin rapped his fingers on the table beside the six-pack.

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

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

"Helmut Dixon," 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 considerate 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 speeding on. Nice talking to you, Marvin."

Although his face was still tightening up, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the six-pack. Marvin stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly jolly manner. Ignoring Marvin's confident leer, he curiously ambled out of the room.

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