In which our hero is taken care of by the ‘Means Well’ Doctors…
"Oh not again", groaned Duff, "Izzy! Stop fucking sneezing, it fucks up your playing!"
While the rest of the band just stared at Izzy, frustrated that they'd have to start the song over again, Izzy wiped his runny nose on his sleeve and nodded weakly back to Duff.
"Alright", Said the bassist, composing himself, "From the top! Again! One! Two! One two three fo-"
"Hang on a minute!" Cried Steven.
He squinted slightly and stared at Izzy, examining him thoroughly making the guitarist feel a little uncomfortable.
His brown eyes were watery, his nose was red, his skin looked clammy, he was breathing heavy and he kept coughing and sniffling every now and again.
"Are you high?" The drummer finally accused, shocking Izzy slightly.
Axl rolled his eyes and snapped at Steven's foolishness.
"No you idiot! He's sick!"
A collective sound of acknowledgement and realisation washed over the other Guns and Duff turned slightly pink.
Axl set the microphone down on Slash's amp and walked over to Izzy. He placed a hand on the guitarist's clammy forehead and thought to himself for a second before giving his diagnosis.
"Yep, definitely sick." He said conclusively.
"Izz man," Mumbled Slash, "You should be, you know, in bed. Like resting."
"Thank you for your helpful suggestion Doctor Daniels." Axl said sarcastically.
The lead guitarist just shrugged and took another swig of his whiskey.
"You don't have to play right now Izzy. Maybe once you're feeling better. You should really take it easy and rest at the moment." Said Axl.
Axl patted the sniffling guitarist on his back.
"Is there anything you need? You want me to get you anything?" Asked Duff.
It was a nice turn around from earlier when he was yelling at Izzy for sneezing. The bassist thought perhaps he should redeem himself. He tucked Izzy snugly into the bed, wrapping him in cosy blankets. He had even leant the guitarist his warmest pyjamas, blue and white stripes and soft as kittens.
"No, but thanks Duff." Said Izzy hoarsely.
His sickness was getting to his throat now and he winced at the pain. Duff noticed and felt the need to help the situation.
"A scarf! How about a scarf to help your throat?"
Before Izzy could say 'no just leave me the fuck alone' Duff had gone and brought him back a woolly scarf. Why he had a woolly scarf in Los Angeles, Izzy did not know but all he did know was that he was now being strangled to death by Duff.
"Ach...aaacch!" Struggled the guitarist.
"There you go!" Said Duff, stepping back and looking at the poor guitarist with the woollen bow tied around his neck.
"Now if there's anything more you need, call me okay?"
The blonde leant down and kissed Izzy on the top of his head before he left the room, closing the door behind him.
As hard as he tried, Izzy's bony fingers couldn't undo the mess of a knot that Duff had left the scarf in. It hurt too much to yell for someone and besides, he couldn't risk Duff coming back to 'help'. A sudden knock on the door brought Izzy's salvation.
"Hey man!" Said Slash, swaying in the doorway.
He teetered over to Izzy, reeking of alcohol. The mass of hair leaned in close to the choking guitarist and Izzy assumed Slash was looking at him.
"What's that?" Slash asked, pointing to the woolly noose.
Izzy tugged violently at it, hoping Slash would get the hint. Thankfully he did and his strong hands freed Izzy from the restraint and allowed him to breathe again.
"Fuckin' Duff!" Gasped Izzy.
After finally getting his breath back the guitarist noticed a little bottle in Slash's hand.
Slash held up the bottle and a grin appeared behind his hair.
Two Minutes Later...
The two guitarists lay on their backs on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, mouths hanging slightly open, glazed expressions on their faces, rainbow coloured flowers dancing in front of their eyes.
Izzy rolled his eyes over to look at Slash who was now bright blue like a Smurf, wearing a silly white top hat.
"Slash?" Slurred Izzy.
"Hmm..." Came the reply.
"That wasn't my..." He paused to watch the purple and red fireworks for a second before finally finishing his sentence, "...my medicine. Was it..."
"No Izzy," Mumbled Slash, "No it wasn't."
Slash slowly got up from the bed and slid off the edge before Izzy watched him float away into the clouds and disappear with a 'pop!'
The guitarist woke up to an excited Steven shaking him like a maniac.
"What the fuck!" Cried Izzy.
Steven, who had climbed up onto the bed and was full on straddling Izzy in his bed, grinned like an idiot and held a tiny instrument in front of the grumpy guitarist's face.
"Time to take your temperature!"
He stuck the thermometer straight into Izzy's mouth before there was any chance to protest.
"Under the tongue please." Said Steven, clearly enjoying his role as 'Doctor'.
Izzy huffed and did as he was told. His eyes narrowed and almost crossed as he watched the glass stick between his lips, the red liquid inside rapidly moving up the scale to the bubble at the head until Izzy was sure it would explode.
The thermometer was yanked from his mouth and Izzy waited impatiently while Dr. Adler carefully examined the results.
"Aha!" Exclaimed the drummer, "It's just as I thought!"
"Well?" Asked Izzy.
Steven looked up from the stick and the deer look on his face gave it all away.
"I don't know what it means Izz." He innocently confessed.
Izzy rolled his eyes and buried himself in his bed again, pissed off that he was awoken for that. He felt the weight of Steven lift from his legs and then heard the scurrying of footsteps and the click of a door.
Izzy sighed with relief and decided to try and get back to sleep again. It didn't last long. After a while a soft, hesitant knock at the door caused the guitarist's eyes to snap open and he sat bolt upright in his bed.
His headache felt like hot knives piercing through his skull, his body was freezing one minute and on fire the next, whatever Slash had sneakily slipped him was still causing the occasional hallucination, his band mates in general were pissing him off greatly and whoever was at the door now was about to deeply regret their visit.
The soft, shy voice of someone who knew not to step on Izzy's toes could only belong to Axl.
"Can I come in?" He asked from behind the door.
Izzy flopped back down and pulled the covers over his head and groaned.
He heard the swish of the door and Axl's slow, cautious steps towards the bed. He felt the foot of the bed depress slightly and then the voice spoke to the sheets again.
"Steven told me your temperature was off the Richter scale."
Izzy rolled his eyes but didn't say anything.
"How are you feeling now?"
He knew he was being a dick now but he still refused to speak. He was in a bad mood and if he wanted to act like a four year old then he was going to do just that.
"Want me to fuck off?"
Izzy thought about it for a second then shook the thought from his head. He knew Axl was fucking with him now.
"No." He replied.
His sixth sense perceived the smug smile on Axl's face.
"Brought you something to make you feel better."
Oh no, thought the guitarist. Not more help...
He reluctantly sat up and let the blankets slip down. Slightly taken aback, the guitarist stared at the two cups of steaming hot chocolate in Axl's hands. White cream and pink marshmallows floated on the top of the surface of each drink making Izzy fall fully in love with his best friend.
"For me?" Asked Izzy incredulously.
The singer smiled and nodded handing one of the mugs to Izzy and took a sip from his own.
"Thanks man!" Said Izzy gratefully.
The two sat in silence drinking their hot chocolate. This was nice, the guitarist thought to himself. However, it would only be a matter of time before Slash, Steven or Duff came back to try and make Izzy feel better again. They meant well, of course, but God were they idiots! He couldn't risk staying in bed like this. It was too vulnerable of a position for him to be in while the others were still lurking about. Izzy made a decision in his head and thought he should share it with Axl.
"I think I'm ready to play again." He said.
Axl giggled slightly and shook his head.
"You've been in bed for two hours man. You still look like shit."
The singer ducked as a pillow came flying his way, making him giggle even more.
"Fine," Said Axl, "If you want all the pampering to stop then you can pretend to feel better and come down and play with us again."
Izzy had no idea how Axl always knew what he was thinking but he kind of liked it.
Suddenly, Papa Smurf marched into the room and with a stern look upon his face he wiggled a finger at Izzy and then disappeared. Izzy's eyes were as wide as saucers now and Axl noticed.
"What's wrong?" Asked the singer.
Izzy snapped back to reality and shook his head, blinking a couple of times.
"Um...on second thought, maybe I should rest a little more." Said Izzy and he took another sip of his hot chocolate.