Bubble Guppies One Shots

Hospital of Plastic

//Mr. Grouper isn't doing so hot. Well, he is hot, but that's mainly due to a high fever, but he can't do much about it now so he goes to school in the horrendous state his in. And while Clam is trying to help him verbally, the guppies have a more.... imaginative solution.//

Beep

Beep

Beep

"Mmmggh," Mr. Grouper groaned as he practically forced himself out of bed. God, the alarm was giving him a headache it was so loud. Not only that but his stomach hurt, his nose feels like it's gonna get backed up (he hates when that happens), his throat felt scratchy, his body ached, and he was freezing in the middle of spring. In short, his body felt gross and mushy like rotten food, and he feels like absolute dog shi- crap. Yeah, one of the unforeseen consequences of working with children is your tendency to sensor yourself, even in the comfort of your own house. He had to basically force himself to get ready for work, because:

1. How the hell is meant to hire a substitute on such short notice?

2. He was mainly fueled by a sense of parental responsibility as the guppies' teacher. (With a bit of wanting to see them sprinkled in.)

And 3. All of his normal hygienic routes involved doing the one thing his aching fins needed the least, standing up. Showering was straining, brushing his fins was uncomfortable, and even simply brushing his teeth felt like an unfun chore that just made his whole body hurt with just with simple movements. Plus the mere taste of toothpaste, made him actually want to vomit-. Not that his toothpaste was nasty, he just couldn't put ANYTHING in his mouth right now, food or otherwise.

His head continued to pound as he made his way downstairs to the first level of his house. He was in absolute agony as his skull was practically caving in at the seams. Actually, he was starting to feel dizzy as things slowly started to warp. The navy blue couch parked far in front of the kitchen was foggy, the black TV on the wall at the end of the room turned blurry like static, the plain gray carpet had fizzy patterns dancing on them, and even old photos of him, the guppies, and his late family that sat on the living room dresser looked like blobs of orange, greens, blues, and pinks, with dashes of purple here and there.

Grouper dragged himself to the kitchen. He was nauseous as hell, but he reasoned that he probably shouldn't go to school on an empty stomach. Instant regret, one bite of mildly overdone toast, is enough to send a tinge of saliva up his throat.

He swallowed hard.

"N-Nevermid, ugh-," he hates wasting food, but he'll make an exception just this once. As he throws the toast away, either nausea or the dizziness warping his mind was to be getting to him as he edges forward grabbing the edges of the trashcan, for support. The smell was nauseating, obviously, it was a trash can, and he could see the old used wrappers, banana peels, papers, orange skins, and other things slowly starting to blend together as he just.... blindly stared at the trash can. It was at this point he noticed his hand were turning from gold-ish orange to cream. That wasn't him changing colors, he was actively going pale, he's shocked he didn't notice it in the bathroom earlier. Weird

"Uh, what are you doing?" Said a deadpan voice behind him. He half turned around to see on a small dresser against the wall on a window was his- pet? Roommate? He wasn't quite sure, Clam. Who from his direction looked like a very blurry rock.

"You look like shit," he said bluntly.

"Thank you," Grouper breathed out. God his voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to his own ears.

"You sure you wanna go to school like that?" Clam asked.

"Do I look like I have any other option? No one would accept a substitution request THIS last minute,"