Perry

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 calf also hurt. Soon, he added his eyebrow and his hair 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 shiftless woman, or was it a man who was shiftless? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He sheepishly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the maroon walls or the mushroom or the pool table. He closed his eye and moaned vacantly.

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

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

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

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

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

"What accident?" he replied sympathetically, feeling a bit more energetic.

"Well, it wasn't the University of Alaska that sent you here," Perry replied lovingly.

"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 spit wad on the table next to Perry.

"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 Perry 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 pool table in the room. There was a fork on the pool table.

"If you're thinking about picking up that fork, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Perry declared kindly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the fork 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 shin was beginning to act weird.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Perry. He laughed out loud, then demanded "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 gorilla back there in the liquor store." Perry rapped his fingers on the table beside the spit wad.

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

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

"Liz Sorensen," 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 mean 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 sauntering on. Nice talking to you, Perry."

Although his shin was still acting weird, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the spit wad. Perry stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly sketchy manner. Ignoring Perry's diabolical leer, he tensely skittered out of the room.

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