POV: Sick Day

By

Kevin Corrigan & Owen Parsons

          POV: Sick Day By Kevin Corrigan and Owen Bertrude Parsons

          INT. BEDROOM - MORNING

          YOU wake up and try to open your eyes. They are stuck with
          eye gunk. You wipe them off.

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    Ugh. My eyes are extra gunky this
                    morning.

          We hear you cluck your tongue against your mouth.

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    My tongue tastes like a dead
                    person's tongue. Better swallow.

          You scream in pain IRL.

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    Aaand, my throat feels like it's
                    being stabbed. Oh no. I'm sick.

          You get out of bed and approach the bathroom mirror.

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    Better assess the damage.

          You shine a flashlight into your mouth and look at your
          throat and "ahhhhh."

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    Looks red. But it always looks red.
                    How red is bad red? Okay, check the
                    tonsils.

          Camera zooms in, bounces back and forth as you look around
          your throat. You have no idea what tonsils look like.

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    Tonsils, tonsils... is that them?
                    No, that's the frenulum.
                    Epiglottis? Perineum? Perineum. I
                    have no idea what anything is."

          Long throat-hawking sound effect.

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    What color phlegm is bad? White?
                    Brown?

          He spits. a gross, fist-sized GLOB of yellow-green phlegm
          lands in the sink with a splat. You squeal like a girl.

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    Definitely that color. Okay, I'm
                    sick. I guess I'll check Web MD
                    even though it's just gonna tell me
                    I'm gonna die.

          You get on your laptop and pull up WebMD. You click some
          things.

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    Crusty eyes. Sore Throat. Fever.
                    What do I got? West Nigerian Renal
                    Pox? Yeah right. I'll Google Image
                    search that just for fun tho-OH
                    God!

          Google image shows a monkey bursting out of a guy in a
          hospital gown's chest, a la Alien. You slam the laptop shut
          and chuck it away.

          GIRLFRIEND enters, sits down and puts her arm around you.

                              GIRLFRIEND
                    Hey sweety, what's wrong?

          You sigh and look down.

                              YOU
                    I'm sick.

          You look up. Reveal your girlfriend is now standing at the
          opposite end of the room, wearing a hazmat suit.

                              GIRLFRIEND
                    Aww, poor baby. I'm here for you.
                    I'm gonna go. Get chicken soup.
                    Here, have some tissues.

          She grabs a box of tissues with a grabber claw and throws it
          vaguely toward you as she leaves.

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    Guess I better call out of work.
                    Hate wasting a sick day on being
                    actually sick.

          You pick up your cell phone and call BOSS. As it's ringing-

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    Alright, sound sick. Sound sick.
                    Sound-wait, I am sick.

                              BOSS (V.O.)
                    Hello?

                              YOU
                    Hey boss. Uh, I mean
                         (coughing and raspy)
                    Hey boss. I'm sooo sorry, I can't
                    come in today. I feeling pretty
                    under the weather.

                              BOSS
                    Again?

                              YOU
                    No, for real this time.

                              BOSS
                    Last time wasn't real?

                              YOU
                    Gotta go!

          You hang up.

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    Stupid. Oh God, my throat is
                    killing me. Wonder if I have any
                    cold medicine...

          You pull open your bedside drawer and pull out a dusty,
          cobwebbed bottle of SUDOQUIL, a cold medicine.

                              YOU
                    Whoa, I haven't seen this in years.
                    Oh well, it's not like pills ever
                    expire.

          You see "DEFINITELY EXPIRED, 1997" labeled on the bottle.

                              YOU
                    Huh. Better take extra just to be
                    sure.

          You chug the pill bottle. Your phone vibrates. You look at
          it. There's a message from Boss. "I'd like you to do all
          your work from home today."

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    Pff. Yeah right. I'm not working
                    from home. I'm gonna kick back and
                    enjoy some primo daytime TV.

          You turn on the TV. The Price is Right (Drew Carey-era) is
          on.

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    Ew. Bob Barker looks terrible.

          You turn the TV off.

                              YOU (V.O.)
                    Nope. You know what. I'm just gonna
                    lie in bed. Relax. Go to sleep. Try
                    to enjoy my day off-Oh God I'm
                    gonna-

          A continuous stream of vomit erupts from your mouth.

                              YOU
                         (coughing)
                    I want my mom.

          You resume vomiting. Five seconds go by. You are drenching
          everything in barf.

                              YOU (V.O.)
                         (still vomiting)
                    How is this even possible?

          END.