Me: *walks by and spots Paul still lying in bed* Hey glitter britches! What's the matter with you?
Paul: I don't feel good.
Me: Huh? *starts to walk towards Paul, but he stops me*
Paul: I don't think it's a good idea for you or anyone else to be near me.
Me: *is confused* But why?
Paul: Because I don't want you to catch whatever I have.
Me: Well, what do you have?
Paul: I have the flu. See that over there?
Me: *looks to where he is pointing at and sees the IV bags* Oh...
Paul: *shows me the post he made on social media*
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Eric Singer: *walks in* Hi Paul. Are you still feeling bad?
Paul: Yeah...*sniffs*
Me: Wait, so what happened to the shows in Ottawa and Toronto? Did they get cancelled?
Eric Singer: Yes, we cancelled them about two hours before the show started. Then, we went to a hotel so that Paul could get some rest.
Paul: Then, we—🤧 *coughs in a tissue* ...flew back here about four o'clock in the morning. And I've been stuck in bed ever since.
Me: Well, to be honest, I think the moment you started to feel like you had the flu, you should've just stayed home. All those germs you're spreading could get Gene, Tommy, or even Itty Bitty Kitty, too.
Paul: I know. I didn't feel really sick until it was last minute when the concert was almost ready to start.
Eric Singer: Yeah, and trust me. When you're sick, it feels tougher on your body as you get older.
Paul: *sneezes into a clean tissue* 🤧
Me: You poor thing. 😟
Paul: Don't worry about me. I'll get better. You just have to be patient, sweetie.
