Meg scooted over to where Max was on the floor. She rested a hand on his back, in an awkward attempt at comforting him. “You should be fine. You should probably throw up or something. You’re being frantic for no reason.”
She sighed. “You aren’t poisoned, it’s alright. If you’d drank the whole bottle, now. That’d be a problem. You need to get it out of your system. Drink alot of water, or something. Pee it out. Sleep. You’ll have some weird dreams though. You should be alright by tomorrow, if not tomorrow, then the next day.”
Max was on his back. Was the room moving? When did he get on a boat? Did Meg just say something about throwing up? He feebly pawed the air in her direction. “Can I. Can you get me some water. Please. Miss.” He could at least be polite. She was a schoolteacher after all. Wait, no. No, that was definitely wrong. Well she seemed like she could be one. She was nice enough. Fuck he was never getting sick ever again.
A long, pathetic moan escaped him. Maximus Maxwell Maximus, this is no way to be acting. You are so much better than this. Haul your sorry little ass up and just barf already, goddamn, you whiny son of a bitch. “But I can’t stannnnd… Meg stop me from being angry at myself.” Fed up with the swaying sensation that had overtaken him, he tried to roll over onto his stomach. However, any pressure on his stomach was definitely not a good idea, so he just rolled onto his back again. “Help.”
Meg laughed and watched him slurp the soup. “Must be good.” She whispered. She looked over at his nightstand, seeing the medicine he took to much of. Grabbing the bottle in shock, she yelled, “Holy fuck, Max! Did you drink all of this shit, or what?” Half of the contents of the bottle were gone. “You must be high as a plane right now.”
She read the back of the bottle. Yep, too much. “Have you had any stomach pains, yet? Because you will, according to the bottle. And you’ll start to feel nervous for no reason. I don’t think you took enough to get a seizure, though, so..” She trailed, looking at him with large eyes.
“Stomach pains?” Oops there’d been soup in his mouth. Now it was… sort of everywhere. Should he be eating soup? There were going to be stomach pains. Did he poison himself? Did they need poison control? Oh god, was this the nervous for no reason thing? No, he had a definite reason for being nervous, he just fucking poisend himself.
“…Meg. I just fucking poisoned myself. Oh my god Meg we gotta do something I can’t die. ” Setting the bowl of soup on the pillow next to him and not worrying how stable that was because he had quite enough else to worry about right now, Max tried to get himself out of be. He scrambled over the bedding, and in his frantic, overdosed, stupor, got tangled and landed on the floor. “Meg help, you have to help me, Meg I can’t die don’t let me die Meeeeg…” there would have been much more urgency in his voice if his head didn’t feel like roasted marshmallows right now.
Meg pushed open the door, revealing a lump on the bed. “Well, where could Max be?” She asked, sarcastic. She walked over to his bed, and flung his covers out of his face. “Hello, sick boy.” She joked, moving into the kitchen to check his cabinets for a bowl and a spoon.
Upon finding them, she poured his soup, still warm, into the bowl and brought it to him. She handed over her masterpiece, along with the spoon and sat down on the floor next to his bed. “I didn’t taste test it. Let me know how it tastes. And be honest. If it sucks, I’ll go out and buy some.”
Okay people were definitely not awesome. Mother fucker daytime was bright. Godammit Meg, do you have to be so goddamn chipper all the time? I fucking feel like the seventh fucking circle of hell, jesus fuck. These are all things he would have said to her, if Max had been in his right mind. Instead the words sort of just came out of his mouth in a dribble of verbal snot. Or something just as appetizing.
Meg continued to be not awesome by clanging around the kitchen and the rest of the general vicinity making too much noise until suddenly there was a bowl of soup in his face. Clam Chowder soup. Oh, Meg. Oh glorious, wonderful, heaven-sent Meg. Divine savior and all things good. These are all things he would have said to her, but his right mind was still nowhere to be found, thanks to the half empty bottle of dayquil on his nightstand. Instead, some noise between a whimper and a hum and everything emasculating happened instead, but hell if he cared. He had some mother fucking soup. Fuck the spoon, this was too good. In a daze of cold medication and euphoria, Max turned to her.
“Thanks.”
Meg searched her kitchen for ingredients to make clam chowder, which she found the recipe for online. She found what she needed and got to work. She’d recently found that she loved cooking, and she was taking a class for it now, and making her own recipes.
She finished making the soup, stored it in some Tupperware, and left with it and headed to Max’s dorm. Too much Nyquil, he’d said. She laughed at the thought of him reading the dosage wrong.
She arrived at her destination and knocked on his door. “I’m letting myself in, because you should be in your bed and under the covers!” She yelled through the door, grabbing the door knob to open it.
“DOORS OPEEEN.”
It should’ve been louder, but from under the amount of pillows and blankets Max had drowned himself in, it sounded something like pathetic. Which was fitting, seeing as that was exactly how he felt. One of these lame ass fuckers at this school had given the cold from hell and now he had to take these drugs and in his sruffy headed stupor he’d read the doseage wrong and now he was feeling high as a kite. Not that he knew how that felt. But anyway.
Meg had agreed to come over and give him some clam chowder, which is what he really fucking wanted right now. Soup, fuck yeah. And he didn’t even have to get up and make it himself. People are awesome. Sometimes.
I’M TRYING! I’M NOT A DOCTOR! ALL I KNOW HOW TO DO IS COOK!
Oh… Soup then? Pretty please?
(Source: m-ximus)
That isn’t good. Don’t fall asleep. You might die.
…I’m lying. I actually have no clue how that works.
You better not fucking let me die, Meg.
(Source: m-ximus)
Ah, I see now. Drinking a little too much, Max?
I read the doseage wrong. This doesn’t happen to me.
(Source: m-ximus)
Alright. I won’t try to cheer you up now or anything.
I’m not. Really. In my right mind. Nyquil?
(Source: m-ximus)
