Marie sat bolt upright. Her already fair skin had turned deathly pale and she was in a cold sweat.
'What on earth?'
She winced and rubbed her head. It felt like it would burst.
'That was the strangest dream I've ever had…'
As she slowly got up, she realized that her head wasn't the only thing hurting. It was as if she had been run over a train.
She limped over to the mirror. Looking back at her was a sickly Marie Fleming. Dark circles had made themselves quite comfortable under her eyes, and she felt very ill.
She ran a washcloth with "HTH" embroidered on it with dragons on each side under the sink and wrung it out.
Marie gently cleansed her face, mainly focusing on her eyes, which resembled road maps. Her ink-colored hair was dull and limp.
'What was that dream? The result of no dinner?'
It was almost as if meeting Dewey had somehow contributed to it.
She drew the blinds that had sealed any light out.
Like the slash of a sword, a shaft of sunlight entered the little room, driving into Marie's eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut. This was not going to be a pleasant day, she knew.
She gingerly picked up the phone and dialed the front desk.
"Hollywood Tower Hotel, Front Desk, how may I help you?" a drawn out voice answered.
"Hello this is Marie Fleming. I would like room service to room 514."
"What would you please?" he replied in a monotone voice.
"Uh, I suppose a boiled egg."
"One of our kind and caring bellhops will be right up with it."
Marie muffled a giggle, he sounded so morose.
"Thank you, sir."
"It's our pleasure to make our guests happy," he responded in that grim tone again.
Marie heard a click, and that was that.
Although the man at the front desk had amused her, she still felt ailing, so she laid down and curled up.
A loud knock kicked Marie out of her half-wakeful state. She stumbled to the door and opened. There stood Dewey.
"Good Afternoon Marie."
"Afternoon?"
"Marie, it's 2:34 pm."
Sure enough, it was.
"Eugh… You don't look so swell."
"My, aren't you the observant one."
Marie glared evilly.
Dewey gulped.
"Heh, sorry, I was just commenting, er, here--"
He hastefully grabbed the egg in its little cup.
"Thanks."
Marie weakly took the egg.
"Dewey?"
"Hm?"
"There haven't, perchance, been any lightning strikes here, have there?"
He shook his head.
"None. Good thing, too. Pop says he'll close the place permanently if there is any accident, regardless of if it's minor or not."
"That's taking it pretty far."
He smiled sadly.
"I know… it would be a shame to see the Tower come crashing down like that."
An awkward silence settled between the two.
"Uh, well, I must be off. Enjoy your breakfast."
He stood and promptly left.
"Well," she whispered to herself half-heartedly, "Chow time."
Marie took the fork and pulled a chunk of the egg off. She placed it in her mouth and chewed slowly.
'What is it with Dewey's father?'
When the egg had been chewed sufficiently, with great pain, she swallowed.
'It's as if the only thing that matters is the Tower.'
Marie stared angrily at the egg as if it had offended her. She wasn't sure if she was ready for the rest of it.
She raised an eyebrow annoyedly.
'He really needs to straighten his priorities. I mean, Dewey is his son!'
The thought gave Marie an angry boost that made her forget her immense sore throat.
She shoved the egg in her mouth and chewed irritably.
Marie gulped it down, and her throat felt like it had been jabbed by a dagger.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, then pushed herself off and up.
She greatly resented Dewey's father's selfishness.
A look of determination and irk appeared in her eyes.
'That's the final straw.'