Tim & Chuck

CH 13:: Tim's Nemesis: Nyquil

"You know that stuff could probably knock out a horse."

"Ha, you should make an ad. 'So effective, it'll even put your equine friend right to sleep.'"

August was officially Tim's least favorite month. As all educational institutions ramped up productivity ahead of the first few weeks of classes, Tim found himself busily attending meeting after meeting to also adjust the workloads and article focuses ahead of the fall and winter quarter. Every time he saw the ever-growing stack of paperwork for approval on his desk, Tim could actively feel his eye twitch in irritation.

In addition to this, the Journal's fashion industry section was the busiest it had been that year, trying to keep up with the multitudinous number of shows that were held to show off any new fall and winter clothing collections. Tim found himself on a redeye flight to Japan for one such show, courtesy of the PMI organization. They were coming out with their biggest collection of women's fall wear and requested his presence. As much as Tim didn't prefer to go, he knew better than to turn down the publicity it would give the Journal in light of their new partnership with PMI.

By the time Tim returned to New York a full three days of nonstop business later, he was ready for a break, but simultaneously he knew that it would be awhile before such a commodity came his way.

Sunshine crept its way through Tim's curtains on a Friday morning, stirring him from a deep slumber. The first thing that Tim felt was a wet, sandpaper-like texture brushing against his face. Groggily, he opened his eyes slowly to find a furry potato licking his cheek and nudging him awake. No doubt Chuck was wondering where his breakfast was since it was usually in his bowl a few hours earlier than this, but at least he was gentle about it.

Tim groaned and attempted to sit up. The room was spinning and stuffy, as if he were looking at it from the interior of a washing machine, and he couldn't hear very well out of his ears. And it was hot. Extremely hot, yet for some reason he trembled with chills that quaked his whole body.

Tim groaned again then collapsed back onto his bed, a little too roughly for his body's liking. Black sparks flew in his peripheral at the rush of movement, and his head pounded in protest.

Great. He was definitely sick.

A full thirty minutes passed before Tim tried again to drag himself away from his king-sized bed. This time he was successful, but unfortunately he felt like he was fighting another full grown man all the way downstairs to the living room. He nearly tripped on the way down the stairs, but fortunately Tim was able to lean on the handrail for balance. Motion sickness intensified to level twenty washed over his body like a storm surge wave, causing his walking to be unsteady and roundabout.

Finally, Tim reached his kitchen and managed to fill Chuck's bowl before collapsing on his couch. What would normally take him two minutes to do had taken him fifteen, and his body was drenched with sweat as the tremors refused to let up.

Tim didn't usually get sick, which made this reaction unprecedented and he wasn't in the mood for it in particular due to the sheer quantity of work he didn't have time to get behind on.

As if through a tunnel, musical notes wafted through to his senses until he finally realized that his phone was ringing. With a huff, Tim hit the green phone icon.

"Hello."

"Hey dude...you sound like death." Alex's voice projected from the device.

"I feel like death." Tim answered dryly, sniffing loudly in an attempt to clear his nasal passages.