AN:
Revived
Cheers & Happy Reading,
Nite Storm
E/E Show
Commercial:
The Flu
At the
Shady Records studio Elton sits comfortable on the sofa, mindlessly flipping through
magazines as his Baby and his friends Paul, Proof and Obie go through demo
tapes of up and coming artists, but very concerned about his baby’s health and
also temper that’s rising with each dry coughing spell.
When a
legal pad goes sailing through the air with another round of coughing, Elton
quickly decides enough is enough and stands.
“Tell your
Homeboy’s Good Bye.” Elton firmly states, and then grabs his Baby’s coat from
the closet as Marshall is blowing his nose for about the hundredths time.
“What?”
“I’ve sat
here and watched you slam headphones down, cuss the computer And Your Friends,
cough and blow your nose till its more reder than
Rudolph’s. The legal pad throwing is enough! You’re sick! Now Say Your
Goodbyes!” Elton sincerely explains, as the others sit stun at his braveness;
knowing Marshall is grouchy, but wouldn’t dare tell him because he’s sick.
“I’m Fine!”
Marshall agitatedly whines in a hoarse voice, and then a cough, as Elton holds
out his coat.
“No your not. Now Get
Up.” Elton firmly states, and
“Call ya later.” Marshall says in a hoarse tone, quickly
gathering papers and tapes but Paul steps around and grabs the stuff from his
hands.
“You’re
sick . . . . go home! Call Dr. Peterson and get some rest.
We’ll finish this when you feel better.” Paul sincerely says laying
the papers back down and softly nudging
“I’m the
president of this company!” Marshall states with a cough, trying to grab his
notebook and Proof steps in front of him.
“If Dr.
Peterson gives ya a note saying your just being
you’re annoying self ya can come back.” Proof rattles
with a laugh handing the notebook over to Elton.
“I’m not
calling Doc.” Marshall firmly states slowly heading to the door.
“I am!”
Elton firmly states closely following.
“Stop
pushing.” Marshall pitifully whines stopping at the door to give last minute
instructions.
“See ya Rudolph.” Obie jokily yells out and Marshall quickly
flips them off as he’s leaving.
Elton
waving goodbye following as they’re whispering thank you.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Once in the
elevator to the underground parking garage Marshall rests against the back wall
and Elton softly rests his hand on the side of his face, and becomes even more
concern at how hot to the touch he feels as he is reaching into his front
pocket with the other hand to retrieve his cel phone
to inform Jake they’re on their way down.
“I feel
like shit.” Marshall pitifully whines trying to pull Elton closer as he is
trying to talk Jake.
Once in the
garage Jake opens the limo door and Marshall slowly crawls in and then Elton
talks with Jake and Box before getting in.
With a deep
coughing attack Marshall angrily tries to express himself about getting sick,
which only causes more coughing, sounding as if he is trying to cough up a lung
to Elton.
“I’m cold.”
Marshall whines through the last of the coughing, resting his head on Elton’s
lap stretching out along the seat.
“We’re almost
there.” Elton soothingly whispers softly caressing over his warm body.
“Get Jake
to stop at a drug store.” Marshall moans, not wanting to admit but his body
giving up to being sick.
“Okay.”
Elton softly whispers; but knowing they’re going straight to his hotel and he
is calling Dr. Peterson, no matter how much whinny/bitching that will come.
“We’re not home.” Marshall whines looking out the limo window,
after it stops at the hotel’s private entrance.
“Nooooo . . . I don’t want you taking this . . . home to
Princess. We’re going up to the penthouse, and I’m calling Dr. Peterson.” Elton
clearly softly explains and then steps from the limo and holds his hand out.
Marshall
hating the fact that he is right Again mumbles his displeasure, no energy at the
moment slowly taking his hand.
Once in the
penthouse Marshall flops down on the sofa as Elton quickly grabs his day runner
and urgently searchers for Dr. Peterson’s number, and then quickly gets him on
the phone.
While his
Baby is having several more coughing spells, mixed with several cuss words
about being sick as Jake really not sure what to do gets him a box of tissues
from the desk and a blanket from the closet.
“Noooo call Aunt B.” Marshall hoarsely moans as Elton begins
talking with the hotel manger on the phone.
“I ordered
some cranberry juice and Dr. Peterson is on his way.” Elton explains feeling
his forehead.
“I don’t
need Doc! . . . Jake! Get me some
drugs.” Marshall agitatedly whines fully sitting up, wrapping the blanket
around his self.
“I’ll call
you if we need anything.” Elton sincerely says, and Jake looks at Marshall
knowing he’s in the best of hands then begin to leave.
“Jakeee . . . . don’t . . . . . . leave me with him”
“You’ll be fine.” Jake says with a small laugh leaving.
“Come on.
Let’s get comfortable.” Elton soothingly says, knelling down by the sofa and
looking into pitiful puffy watery eyes.
“I don’t wanna move.” Marshall pitiful whines;
every part of his body aching.
“You’ll be more comfortable in bed.” Elton sincerely says.
“Why?” Marshall pitifully whines as Elton helps him sit up.
“We need to call B.” Marshall moans, slowly dragging his aching
body to the bedroom.
“We will.” Elton says following close behind.
“Turn up the heat.” Marshall pitiful whines collapsing onto the bed
with the blanket tightly wrapped around him.
“Baby it’s
quite warm in here.” Elton comments as he looks at the theromostate
on the wall that reads 73 degrees, as Marshall lays down on the bed; curling up
into a ball.
Elton
quickly folds the other half of the top comforter over his precious gift,
placing a gently kiss on his temple.
“I Love
You.” Elton whispers in his Baby’s ear; feeling the heat rising
and becoming extremely concerned.
“I’m going
to call B . . . I’ll be right back.” Elton says and places another gently kiss on his Baby’s perfect temple then rushes from the room.
Elton calls
the hotel manger back and threatens his job if the juice and everything else he
asked for isn’t at the door in two seconds, then calmly calls Mrs. B who
assures him that she’ll call Hailie’s pediatrician as soon as she gets off the
phone just to be on the safe side. Then explains to use cold
washcloths to keep his temperature down till Dr. Peterson gets there.
Hailie gets
on the phone and says hi and that she’ll draw her daddy a get-well card and fax
it over and Elton promises to tell her daddy how much she loves him.
After
hanging up Elton rushes to the bathroom and then to his Baby, who is still
lying in the same spot on the bed, shivering.
“Hi.” Elton
softly whispers as he slowly places the cold washcloth on his Baby’s forehead,
and he flinches.
“Did you call
Hailie?” Marshall moans, his body feeling as if it’s been run over by a
tractor-trailer.
“She told
me to tell you that she loves you and to get well soon. Mrs. B says she’s fine,
but is going to call Dr. Ritchie to get an appointment for her to get a flu
shot.” Elton softly explains.
“She
doesn’t fuckin need a fuckin appoiment!” Marshall
angrily states as he struggles to sit up and begins coughing.
“I pay him
damn well! . . . . . Call that motherfucker and tell him . . . . I Don’t Want My Baby Girl Getting This Shit!”
Marshall struggles to angrily say between coughing, Elton just sits and listens
knowing there is no stopping his Baby’s anger when it comes to his Baby
Girl/his Princess.
“Mrs. B is
going to call us back after she talks with him.” Elton softly says, after
reaching over and taking the phone receiver from his Baby.
“We’re
fuckin moving to Cancun . . . . somewhere that doesn’t
fuckin’ have winter’s.” Marshall agitatedly states, laying back down and
snuggling close to Elton, who is reaching over to put the phone receiver back
on the night stand.
“Cancun . .
. can I come along?” Elton nervously
asks, as his Baby fully snuggles into his arms, as there is a soft knock on the
bedroom door that is half open.
“Sir Elton
room service is here.” Jake whispers, not knowing if Marshall is asleep or
awake.
“Thanks.”
Elton says, and begins to get up, and Marshall grabs the front of his shirt.
“We as in Hailie Jade, You and me.” Marshall softly says with a very weak smile.
“I love
you.” Elton says placing a quick kiss on his forehead, and then places the cold
washcloth back on his forehead.
“Keep this
Here . . . I’ll be right back.” Elton whispers then leaves.
Elton fixes
his Baby a glass of cranberry juice, and sets in on the tray and then carefully
returns to the bedroom.
“They say
chicken noodle soup is good for a cold.” Elton announces as he sets a tray down
on the nightstand.
“I’m not
hungry.” Marshall pitifully moans, as Elton sits down beside him.
“You have to
eat . . . here take these.” Elton says handing his Baby two Tylenol.
“Sweetheart? . . . I feel like I’ve
been run over by a tractor-trailer . . . . I need more than two.” Marshall
struggles to explain between coughing.
“Mrs. B
says that this should keep your fever down till Dr. Peterson gives you an
antibiotic. And too only give you two.”
Elton explains, as Marshall sits up and leans against the headboard.
“Where’s
Box?” Marshall pitifully moans, and then takes the two Tylenol.
“He went to
the house to get you some clothes and check on things. And even if he was here
he wouldn’t help you.” Elton sternly explains with a small laugh, as he’s
laying a cloth napkin on his Baby’s lap.
“I’m not
hungry.”
“You will
eat this . . . And Be Happy.” Elton sternly states, taking the bowl into his
hand.
“Elllttonnnnn.” Marshall whines scooting down in the bed, with more coughing.
“Pllleeaaseee.” Elton pleads, as Marshall gets to a laying position.
“Nooooo.” Marshall whines pulling the blanket back over himself as he’s
turning onto his side with his back to Elton.
“Fine! I hope Dr. Peterson gives you a Shot
in the Ass!” Elton states quickly standing and rushing from the room; quickly
regretting his remark knowing his Baby is petrified of needles, but determined
not to apologies.
Elton sets
the chicken soup back on the cart and then walks back over to the bedroom
doorway and listens to his Baby coughing, noticing his breathing becoming more
labored, but jumps as the door opens and Jake and Dr. Peterson walks in.
“Thank you
for coming.” Elton urgently welcomes; rushing over to Dr. Peterson and shaking
his hand.
“Sir it is my
pleasure to finally meet you.” Dr. Peterson says, star struck that he’s meeting
Sir Elton John.
“Marshall
is this way. I have to warn you he’s not in the best of moods. I’ve tried to
get him to eat but he refused. I gave him two Tylenol about five minutes ago.”
Elton explains, being very careful not to say too much, and too act like he is
just a concerned friend.
“Thanks.”
Dr. Peterson says and then takes a deep breath, being Marshall’s doctor for
about ten years; and knowing this is going to be difficult as Elton stops at
the doorway.
Elton
nervously stands by the now closed door, wishing he could be holding his God’s
Most Precious Gift/His Baby’s hand.
Dr.
Peterson explains to
“Whada ya
doing?” Marshall nervously whines, noticing
what Dr. Peterson is doing.
“I’m going
to give you a shot. Do you wanna lay or stand?” Dr.
Peterson asks.
“Hell No!
Elton told you to do this, cause I wouldn’t eat the
fuckin soup.” Marshall nervously whines sitting up, coughing.
“No Sir Elton didn’t. We need to
get this antibiotic in your blood stream as soon as possible.” Dr. Peterson
says slowly walking over to him.
“ELTON! . .
. . . No! You fuckin’ stuck that thing down my throat . . . . . .” Marshall
tries to explain between coughing.
“Marshall
it was a throat culture.” Dr. Peterson soothingly explains.
“Why do I
need That? . . . . . . . You gave me these.” Marshall
whines in a childish tone, now standing and backing slowly up in the corner,
waving the prescriptions in the air.
“Marshall .
. . .” Dr. Peterson soothingly begins to explain.
“Elton!”
Marshall tries to yell but his throat so sore and dry it barely auditable.
Elton
rushes into the room to see Marshall practically huddled in the far corner and
Dr. Peterson standing in the middle of the room.
“What’s
wrong?” Elton pleads in extreme concern.
“I need
Jake too take these to a drug store.”
“Jake will
get them filled and I promise to take them as soon as he gets back.” Marshall
nervously tries to state between coughing, flopping down in a chair.
“Marshall
The shot will get the antibiotic in your blood stream faster to attack the
congestion in chest faster. You think I’ve tortured you today, let it turn into
pneumonia and that my son is a stay in the hospital and then I will torture you
then.” Dr. Peterson explains.
“I don’t
like needles.” Marshall childishly whines, resting his head back.
“I know but
you need this.” Dr. Peterson explains.
“Marshall .
. .” Elton soothingly says, taking a few steps towards him.
“NO.”
Marshall states with another round of coughing.
“May I
please speak with him alone?” Elton carefully asks.
“Sure.” Dr.
Peterson says, knowing it took over an hour and help from Hailie and Paul for
him to give Marshall the needed immunization to travel out of the country.
“You told
him to do this.” Marshall angrily whines, grabbing the blanket from the bed,
and wrapping it around himself, as Dr. Peterson leaves the room.
“No b . . .
. I didn’t.” Elton sincerely says censoring himself, as he walks over to him.
“Just get
Jake to get the drugs . . . and leave me alone.” Marshall tries to state
between coughing, as he tries to snuggle down in the chair, feeling like shit
even his eyelashes hurting.
“Dr.
Peterson knows you don’t like needles . . . . so he
wouldn’t suggest it less he thought it was absolutely necessary.” Elton carefully
explains, sitting down on the corner of the bed, as his Baby lays his head on
the arm of the chair.
“Where’s my
phone.” Marshall pitifully moans trying to look around the room, with his head
resting on the arm of the chair; mentally wondering why Elton won’t just leave
him alone like everyone else does when he is sick.
“Baby I
love you . . . and it breaks my heart that you’re sick . . .” Elton sincerely
whispers with all his heart, body and soul knelling down in front of the chair
and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.
“BUT I’m
giving you five seconds to get up in that bed and let Dr. Peterson finish or
I’m going to Truly give you something to whine about.”
Elton firmly whispers and then stands pointing to the bed.
“You’re
threatening me.” Marshall pitifully moans after a few seconds, fully looking
into Elton’s eyes, knowing No One talks to him in that way/tone.
“Oh Baby
it’s a promise not a threat!” Elton firmly states pulling the blankets down on
the bed, trying desperately not to fully look over at his Baby.
“You
shouldn’t be mean to me.” Marshall pitifully moans, dragging himself over to
the bed and flopping down.
“Sue me.”
Elton states with a small laugh as he pulls the blankets up around his Baby’s
gorgeous body.
“I might.”
Marshall tries to joke as Elton quickly places a simply kiss on his still
perfect chapped lips.
“If you let
Dr. Peterson finish, I promise to kiss everything better after he leaves.”
Elton seductively whispers in his Baby’s ear, and then quickly stands, not
wanting Dr. Peterson to walk in and catch them so close.
Marshall
tries to seductively moan, before another round of coughing, and Elton leaves
the room to get the doctor.
“I think
he’s ready.” Elton says walking into the living room and Dr. Peterson stands.
“Did you
threaten him like Mr. Rosenberg or bribe him with ice cream like Hailie.” Dr.
Peterson asks with a laugh.
“A little of both.” Elton says
with a laugh, and Dr. Peterson takes a deep breath and walks back in the
bedroom.
Dr.
Peterson returns to the living room about twenty minutes later, and explains to
Elton how to care for their patient, and gives him his home phone number if
Marshall’s health doesn’t improve in the next twelve hours or if he seems to
get worse in the middle of the night.
Elton walks
the Dr. Peterson to the door, trying to hold back the smug expression, of
already having his home phone number and then after saying thank you and
goodbye rushes to his Baby.
“You okay .
. . you want anything.” Elton sincerely asks, as he snuggles in behind his
Baby, and him sleepily rolling over into his arms.
“You have
to kiss my ass.” Marshall sleepily moans and Elton softly places a kiss on his
forehead, willing to keep his promise.
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