Hi, Bob!

"Hi."

Everyone that was conscious in the bathroom jumped at the sound of the reasonable, well-modulated greeting. Even the blind woman started at the sound of a new male voice. Her knees drew together reflexively.

"I couldn't help but hear you from my desk out there," the man said nodding his head in the direction from whence he came. "My name is Bob. I'm the station attendant on duty."

Bob stood there and surveyed the situation -- bloodied, unconscious janitor, lusty blind woman and her accomodating seeing-eye dog, half-clad Amazon princess and bloodied and confused, French-spouting, naked Asian man.

"Ummm, yeah," Bob continued, when he realized introductions would not likely be forthcoming. "Anyway, Luis -- that's the guy on the floor who's unconscious -- should probably be checked out. Time is pretty much of the essence, since head injuries can be pretty traumatic. It's not like hitting someone in the head in the movies and they do a pretty swoon and wake up 15 minutes later. He's probably got a concussion, maybe a subdural hematoma and should see a doctor... but, he's such a dick, I think we might wait a minute or so. Who's going to tell?"

He smiled a conspiratorial smile.

She was amazed at his soliloquy. He was preternaturally calm and that frightened her. His dispassionate eyes took in all of the mad carnage surrounding him as if surveying a breakfast menu for a particularly tasty croissant. He had the demeanor of a serial killer in the afterglow of an evening's murders.

"Him?" Bob said pointing at her naked lover. "He's also had severe head trauma and consequently, he's lost his grasp of English and is now speaking French. That's pretty rare."

Bob stroked his chin, looking at the naked man, who gazed back from his knees on the floor, glassy-eyed.

"He was asking the usual questions when he woke up, 'Who am I? Who are you? Why am I naked?' But, then he was asking if you were going to have sex with the blind woman. And, before I try and clean up this truly profound mess, I've got to ask the same thing? Are you? Because if you are, I'd like to watch."

Unceremoniously, he pulled out a petite, pale penis and let it hang daintily out of his unzipped trousers. He fished in his right pants pocket and pulled out a tube of Ben-Gay and a small, tarnished silver spoon. Fighting gravity with some effort, his miniscule penis began to tilt upwards, barely disturbing the fabric of his light blue boxer shorts.

She watched as Bob slathered a spoonful of ointment onto his member. He shuddered for a second, then put away the spoon and the Ben Gay. He then pulled out a baggie, draped it around his member and looked back at her.

"Well?"