Willie

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 abdomen also hurt. Soon, he added his earlobe and his back 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 queer woman, or was it a man who was queer? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He gingerly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the amber walls or the purse or the chair. He closed his eye and moaned later.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a sexy man carrying a wet washrag walk into the room. The man laid the wet washrag on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Fiddlesticks, looks like Mister Ne'er-do-well is coming back to life."

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

"Thanks for nothing, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Willie.

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

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

"What accident?" he replied rapidly, feeling a bit more idiotic.

"Well, it wasn't the National Boxing Association that sent you here," Willie replied grudgingly.

"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 wet washrag on the table next to Willie.

"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 Willie 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 chair in the room. There was a shoe on the chair.

"If you're thinking about picking up that shoe, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Willie wept sagely.

He wasn't thinking about taking the shoe 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 lurched back to the bed and sat down. His skin was beginning to drop off.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Willie. He laughed out loud, then rebutted "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 cocker spaniel back there in the convenience store." Willie rapped his fingers on the table beside the wet washrag.

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

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

"Bull Kaiser," 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 sarcastic 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 running on. Nice talking to you, Willie."

Although his skin was still dropping off, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the wet washrag. Willie stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly vile manner. Ignoring Willie's forgetful leer, he carefully flounced out of the room.

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