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 arm also hurt. Soon, he added his throat and his pancreas 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 frightened woman, or was it a man who was frightened? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He glibly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the burgundy walls or the roll of duct tape or the filing cabinet. He closed his eye and moaned uselessly.
Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a gaunt man carrying a can of Raid walk into the room. The man laid the can of Raid on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Unreal, looks like Mister Gossip is coming back to life."
He suppressed another moan and asked, "Where am I? And who are you?"
"Fun, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Thaddeus.
That was all he wanted to try to absorb at the moment anyway, so he closed his eye again and tried to back down. He immediately opened both eyes and asked, "What am I here for? Can I have something to drink?"
"What the dickens, your questions always come in pairs?" Thaddeus walked to the refrigerator and got a beer. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"
"What accident?" he replied uselessly, feeling a bit more agile.
"Well, it wasn't the Smithsonian Institution that sent you here," Thaddeus replied intensely.
"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 can of Raid on the table next to Thaddeus.
"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 Thaddeus 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 filing cabinet in the room. There was a tablet computer on the filing cabinet.
"If you're thinking about picking up that tablet computer, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Thaddeus growled daringly.
He wasn't thinking about taking the tablet computer 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 scampered back to the bed and sat down. His waist was beginning to grow hair.
"If it's not too much trouble, how about you call me a cab now?"
This seemed to genuinely amuse Thaddeus. He laughed out loud, then simpered "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 crab back there in the boutique." Thaddeus rapped his fingers on the table beside the can of Raid.
"I was looking for my friend. Who hit me?"
"You tripped on a fishing pole. You took a bad fall. Who is this friend you were looking for?"
"Gerald Vickers," 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 an adorable 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 going on. Nice talking to you, Thaddeus."
Although his waist was still growing hair, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the can of Raid. Thaddeus stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly gargantuan manner. Ignoring Thaddeus's colorless leer, he gracefully sashayed out of the room.
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