Title: "How Do You Solve A Problem Like Sabrina's?"

Author: Bridget Frawley ([email protected])

Disclaimer:  This story is based on characters that are Copyright@Spelling-Goldberg Productions. This story is meant for enjoyment purposes, and I retain only the rights to the plot, not the characters.
 

 

 The Angels had just finished debriefing with Charlie.

 “I’d better be going,” Sabrina said, glancing at her watch and just noticing the time.  She grabbed the glass of water from the table and gulped it down.  Suddenly she hiccoughed.  “Oh, this is just perfect!”  She groaned sarcastically, slamming the glass back on the table forcefully.

 Bosley stared at her, smiling.

 She glared at him for a few seconds without speaking.  “What?”  She asked warily.

 “Nothing!”  He stated innocently, eyes twinkling.  “I never saw anyone look so cute with the hiccoughs.”

 “Ha ha — HIC — ha,” she grumbled.

 Kris and Kelly started giggling.

 “What’s so funny?”  Sabrina snapped irritably.

 “Bri, it is pretty hard to take you seriously like that,” Kris confessed.

 Sabrina rolled her eyes in annoyance.

 “Here,” Kelly jumped in sympathetically, going to the bar and pouring three glasses of water.  She brought them over to Sabrina and put them in front of her.  “Drink these one right after the other while holding your nose.”

 Sabrina nodded.  “Thanks.”  She did as instructed and hiccoughed again, groaning unhappily.

 “Try holding your breath for two minutes,” Bosley advised.  “That usually works.”

 She nodded.  Anything to get rid of the stupid things.

 He glanced at his watch.  Once the second hand reached the 12 he said, “Now.”

 She took a deep breath and held it, body jerking every few seconds as a hiccough went through her silently.

 “And — time!” Bosley announced.

 She let out her breath gratefully, then hiccoughed again.

 “I forgot something in my car.  I’ll be right back,” Kris left.

 There was the abrupt sound of a gunshot outside.

 They all dropped behind the furniture, guns drawn.

 “What was that?”  Kelly demanded anxiously.

 “I don’t know,” Bosley answered, surveying the area apprehensively.

 Sabrina grabbed the pillow off the couch and pressed it to her face, her body vibrating silently with the hiccough that she tried to suppress.

 “Kris!”  Kelly called sharply.

 There was no sound from outside.

 Bosley threw the front door open and cautiously peered around it.  “Kris, are you all right?”

 Kris entered a few seconds later.  “Are they gone?”

 They all groaned and returned to their seats.

 Sabrina hiccoughed.

 “That’s not very funny,” Kelly exclaimed, taking a few deep breaths.  “We thought you might have been hurt.”

 “I thought a good scare was supposed to work,” Kris defended herself.  “I only fired into the ground so there wouldn’t be a ricochet.”

 “Well, it didn’t,” Sabrina stated sharply.  “This is just gr — HIC — eat.  I’m supposed to go to a — HIC — piano recital tonight.”

 “You can still go,” Kris objected.

 Sabrina stared at her in amazement.  “Oh, sure!  I’ll blend right in when they — HIC — do the solo.”

 “Won’t you be over them by then?”  Kris asked curiously.

 “I hope so,” Sabrina sighed wearily.  “I’d better — HIC — get going.”

 “Can you get home all right?”  Bosley asked in concern.  “Maybe one of us should give you a ride.”

 “I’ll be — HIC — fine,” she protested.  “It’s not that — HIC — far.”

 “You sure?”  Kelly asked worriedly.  “I don’t mind.”

 She shook her head.  “I’ll talk to you later.”  She left.

 

 A few hours later she was at home, sitting on the couch and hoping that they’d gone away by now but no such luck.  She resignedly picked up the phone and dialed.  “Hello, Joe — it’s me.”  She took a deep breath to suppress the hiccough, mortified that he’d find out the real reason she had to break their date.  “I’m sorry, but I have to — cancel our date.  I really don’t feel very well.”  She held her breath again, body jerking with the intensity.  “No, no!  You don’t have to come over.  I’m sure it’s just some — 24 hour bug.  I’ll talk to you later.”  She hung up the phone quickly before she gave herself away.  The force of the next hiccough was so strong that she involuntarily dropped the telephone.  She grabbed it quickly and sighed wearily.

 Suddenly the doorbell rang.

 She got up to answer it, walking slowly as she didn’t have much energy at present.   She peeked out the peephole, saw who it was and opened the door.  “Hi!”  She said in surprise, hiccoughing.

 “Hi,” Bosley said, going inside with the shopping bag he’d brought. “They sound worse,” he observed, frowning slightly.

 “You thought it was — HIC — funny before,” she reminded him peevishly.

 “Haven’t they stopped since you got home?”  He asked in surprise.

 “No,” she answered morosely, hiccoughing.  “Go ahead, laugh.”

 “When was the last time you had the hiccoughs?”

 “I don’t remember,” she answered honestly.  “I — HIC — called my dad and asked him.  He said that I was — HIC — five or six, he didn’t remember.  They lasted for two — HIC — days.”

 “Two days?”   He repeated in amazement.

 She nodded.  “My parents stayed up with me in — HIC — shifts.”  She reached for a glass of water that was on the table and took a sip.   A hiccough caught her unaware and the water went down the wrong way.  She started coughing, unable to catch her breath for a few seconds.

 He stared at her in amusement.  “I’ve never heard anyone cough and hiccough at the same time.”

 “This isn’t funny!”  She exploded in exasperation, rolling her eyes.   “I can’t — HIC — eat.  I can’t sleep.  And if you think I’m — HIC — charming now wait until I don’t get at least five hours of  — HIC — sleep.  Ask Kelly if you don’t believe me.  It is — HIC — not a pretty picture.”  She threw herself onto the sofa and folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him in fury.  “So if the — HIC — only reason you came was to amuse yourself then you can go — HIC — home now. The next show is tomorrow at noon.”

 “I’m sorry,” he apologized, not realizing how upset this had made her.  He sat beside her and tried to put his arm around her shoulders.

 She jerked away angrily, managing to catch her breath somewhat but was still hiccoughing.

 “I didn’t realize how unsettled you were,” he admitted.

 She took a deep breath and tried to calm down, massaging her forehead.  “I didn’t mean to — HIC — overreact.  I just can’t think straight any more.”

 “I’d read somewhere that hiccoughs can be caused by stress or tension,” he began cautiously.

 “Is that so?”  She glared at him, hiccoughing violently.

 “I may have a cure for you.  Go inside and get into something comfortable.”

 “What is it?”  She asked suspiciously.

 “You’ll find out.”  He glanced over at her and still saw her sitting there.  “So, go on!  Unless you want keep those for two or three days.”

 She hiccoughed violently again, head starting to pound.  “All right, you’ve made your point.”

 “Change into your pajamas.  I’ll have everything ready when you come back.”

 She nodded and went into her bedroom.  When she came out a few minutes later she found the lighting in the room dimmed and classical music playing on the stereo.  “John Bosley, are you trying to seduce — HIC — me?”

 “Don’t get offended, Bri, but those aren’t exactly a turn on,” he confessed.  “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t joke like that, either.  I have a lady friend who’s very jealous.  It took me 20 minutes to convince her to change our date to tomorrow.”  He handed her one of the glasses and sat at the other end of the couch.

 “I’m sorry,” she hiccoughed guiltily, sitting on the couch and put her feet on his lap comfortably.  “You can still go if you like.”

 “Don’t be silly.  I told her the truth...that I was helping a friend.  I’ll make it up to her tomorrow.”

 “Oh?”  She questioned interestedly, peering into the glass.  “What’s this?”  She asked curiously, earlier irritation forgotten.

 “A mai-tai.”

 “No way,” she objected firmly.  “Those things are danger — HIC — ous.”

 “I promise I won’t make you do the hula* unless you want to.”

 She took a sip and her eyes began to water.   “Is it supposed — HIC — to be that strong?”  She asked breathlessly.

 “It’s your imagination,” he lied innocently, taking a sip of his.  He wasn’t about to admit that the rum he used was 180 proof.  “It’s perfectly fine.”

 “I hope this — HIC — works,” she stated fervently.  “I even got kicked out of the library.”

 “I’m not surprised,” he laughed.

 “It’s not — HIC — funny,” she complained, kicking him gently.  “I had to take all those books home.  I tried — HIC — everything I could find.”

 “And nothing worked?”

 She shook her head.

 “You always were an overachiever,” he teased.

 “Yeah, well, this isn’t something I’d want to put on my resume,” she muttered.

 “I take it I shouldn’t mention this skill to Charlie?”  He asked innocently.

 “How are you going to — HIC — make it up to...Marge?”  She asked, taking a few more sips and ignoring his teasing.

 “Dinner, dancing,” he answered evasively.  “How’s your drink?”

 “Fine.”  She gulped the rest of it down.  “You’re a very good — HIC — dancer.”

 “Well, thank you.”

 “Can I ask you to do me a — HIC — favor?”  She smiled, eyes glassy.

 “Hmmmm?”

 “Would you burn that — HIC — film?”

 “You really weren’t that bad,” he laughed.  “Besides, you have to admit that we had fun.”

 She nodded, trying to keep her eyes open.  “Bos?”

 He glanced over at her questioningly.

 “My head doesn’t hurt any more.”  The hiccoughs were becoming intermittent.

 “I’m not surprised,” he stated wryly, putting his glass on the table.  “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”  He made a move to get up.

 “I’m fine,” she protested softly, hiccoughing gently and falling asleep.

 “Bri, come on,” he chided, shaking her feet.  “You won’t be comfortable out here all night long.”

 She sighed contentedly and shifted position, dead to the world.

 He smiled, got a blanket to cover her and then left.

 

*   “Angels In Paradise” (aired episode)

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