Under the Weather

 I laid in my beddiwedd, my glazzballs shut and my rookers folded across my belly. With my ookos, I slooshied the most beautiful of zvooks. Although I were not feeling as well as I may be, the sladky shoom of Ludwig van whispered lovely slovos in my ears that were a language I could not possibly understand or speak with my own yahzick. A language that cracked lavish vecks across the bare backs with a whip, sending the melodic krovvy dripping down, down, down their plotts. I saw gorgeous pictures as I slooshied.

The climax of the lovely music swelled and I held my breath in anticipation for the bashing of the cymbals and the blaring of the golden horns that sheen when they catch the light in my own rassoodock as I pictured it just so. Through the glorious climax, I could just pony the particular shoom of someone like banging at my door. Not my bedroom door, but the door leading into my domy 10-8.

Now, I was all on my oddy-knocky at this hour seeing as em and pee had gone out to work and being forced to leave their dear, dear son in his room like a real plenny. I had no problem with being on my oddy-knocky and the like, but when I was feeling particularly sick and not too well, I got a bit nervous when I heard a knocking at my door. Was it to be my gloopy, vonny, nozz of a veck P.R. Deltoid coming to check on thee since I did not go to skolliwoll this day? He would sit a bit too close to Your Humble Narrator, breathing a bit too warm down my neck and so close to my own glazzies he were that I could viddy his teeth when he pulled his goobers back in many grimaces — yellow as parchment paper from years of unsweetened chai.

I groaned and sat upright on my beddiwedd, wearing only my white brief neezhnies and feeling definitely a bit nagoy. But if it were only my corrective advisor, what did I have to be spoogy about? It's not like there would be a very important veck strolling up to my doorstep to bestow a million pounds of cutter at my feet, all with the added bright popping flashes of camera lights erupting onto me. Your Humble Narrator, wearing only his neezhnies and his voloss all rumbled from rolling around in bed like a gloopy koshka.

I ittied real gentle-like, as to not upset my belly, out of my bedroom but not bothering to lift the needle from my particular record that spun round the player. I couldn't bring myself to stop the lovely music anyways seeing as Ludwig van was the only veck who could keep me company while I was all on my oddy-knocky.

When I was too slow getting to the front door, the knockings came again but more skorry and aggressive-like. They were knocking like bezoomny and I croaked out in my sick goloss as I unhooked the lock, "All right, all right! Enough of that!"

I pulled open the door and there, standing behold me, were my three droogs still wearing their skolliwoll clothes and carrying a glass of some liquid that sloshed around in the cup. Pete carried one in his rooker while Georgie carried the other. Dim just stood there, grinning and haw-hawing after giving me the sweep with his glazzies and noticing that I was standing there, gloopy as I am, in my neezhnies. All nagoy and exposed. But I didn't bother to try and cover myself, O my brothers, for it were only my faithful droogs who were coming to pay me a bit of a surprise visit.

"Welly welly welly well," I say musically, leaning against the doorway to 18A. "What brings you? This is my humble abode. Can't you viddy I'm not feeling dobby?"

"Just that!" Dim says. "You not feeling too horrorshow we decided we would drop by and cheer you up, like."

I slowly dropped my defensive attitude and viddy them up and down. It was real harmless having them standing here in front of myself holding two glasses that I expected would make me feel a bit better. It felt odd to have them knocking on my door like and caring about meself.

"You been slooshying in your bedroom all day, little Alex?" Georgie ponies, leaning a bit sort of to the side to try and viddy over my shoulder like he'd see Ludwig van standing there himself conducting a concerto in my living area. "I imagine you haven't made your bed."