House MD fanfic
Title:Jimmy Gets High Tonight
Author:hilandmum
Rating:PG
Summary:Jimmy spends another night alone in his hotel room.
James Wilson was miserable. He sat on the edge of the bed in his dark
and lonely hotel room bemoaning his fate. How did it come to this?
He'd never felt so alone in his life. There'd always been someone, a
wife, a lover, someone.
He wondered how House stood it. How did he spend so much time by
himself, with only his thoughts to keep him company? So many times
he'd accused House of enjoying his misery. But how could he?
He leaned back in the bed, his hands behind his head on the pillow.
But he felt uncomfortable in his suit pants, dress shirt and tie. He
loosened the tie, unbuckled his belt. That was a little better.
So, what now? Besides another night by himself. What did House do
when he was alone? He played the piano! Wilson took lessons when he
was a kid. Didn't everyone? His mother insisted on it and on an hour
or two of practice everyday. But he didn't like it and was never any
good. Scratch that.
Wilson shifted his position. What else did House do? He drank. Wilson
got up and opened the minibar even though he knew what he'd find.
The liquor bottles were too small to even try. He grabbed a can of
beer instead and returned to his spot on the bed.
He turned on the TV, surfed through the dozens of channels, finally
settling on Sponge Bob. He knew this was one of House's favorites
but couldn't understand the appeal. Maybe if you were six. Or maybe
you had to be drunk or even high. He got up once more and patted the
pockets of his jacket, draped over the back of a chair. Yes, he knew
he'd put a bottle of House's drug of choice in there. Just in case
House ran out. He rattled the bottle the way he often saw House do
it, then opened the top and poured out a couple. he stared at them
for a full minute before tossing them back in his throat.
But he couldn't swallow them dry. He got a bottle of water to wash
the pills down, then wondered how long it would take before he'd
feel any effects, or even what he'd feel. What would they do for
someone without the pain that House dealt with on a continuous basis?
After a short while he began to feel sleepy, no, not sleepy, just a
little hazy. He didn't feel anything, literally. He was almost numb
in fact, except for a desire to sleep and, oddly enough, he was also
hungry.
Back to the minibar one more time. He supposed he could have called
for room service. It wasn't too late and, in fact, the hotel had
24-hour room service. But he didn't want to have to wait or to decide
what to order. Junk food would be fine, better than fine.
He found chips and those packages of crackers with the 'cheese' that
wasn't really cheese and didn't taste like anything Wisconson or
Switzerland ever produced. He finally decided that a Snickers bar
was what he wanted. He ripped off the wrapper and bit into it
hungrily. Before he knew it he'd finished the whole thing.
Now what? There was one other thing calling his name. In fact the
package had it written all over. Jimmy snacks. Funny, he never tried
them before. He opened the foil bag and popped two into his mouth.
Hmmm. Very good. They tasted like his pancakes, but crunchier. He
ate another couple as he settled back on the bed and began to smile.
Now these were excellent. Just a couple more and he'd stop.
You know, things weren't really so bad after all. It was nice to just
rest here in the silence, without anyone bothering him. Maybe he'd
eat one more Jimmy snack. He reached into the almost empty bag, then
had to smile when he suddenly noticed that it said:
Bet you can't eat just two
and below that, in finer print he could barely read with his blurred
vision:
The snack that's better than crack.
********************************************
Disclaimer: I didn't invent Jimmy snacks. They were the creation of a deranged fanfic writer named Andrew for a fanfic called Jimmy Doo and the Chairman of the Board written by Jellybean for the Fox/House boards.
Author:hilandmum
Rating:PG
Summary:Jimmy spends another night alone in his hotel room.
James Wilson was miserable. He sat on the edge of the bed in his dark
and lonely hotel room bemoaning his fate. How did it come to this?
He'd never felt so alone in his life. There'd always been someone, a
wife, a lover, someone.
He wondered how House stood it. How did he spend so much time by
himself, with only his thoughts to keep him company? So many times
he'd accused House of enjoying his misery. But how could he?
He leaned back in the bed, his hands behind his head on the pillow.
But he felt uncomfortable in his suit pants, dress shirt and tie. He
loosened the tie, unbuckled his belt. That was a little better.
So, what now? Besides another night by himself. What did House do
when he was alone? He played the piano! Wilson took lessons when he
was a kid. Didn't everyone? His mother insisted on it and on an hour
or two of practice everyday. But he didn't like it and was never any
good. Scratch that.
Wilson shifted his position. What else did House do? He drank. Wilson
got up and opened the minibar even though he knew what he'd find.
The liquor bottles were too small to even try. He grabbed a can of
beer instead and returned to his spot on the bed.
He turned on the TV, surfed through the dozens of channels, finally
settling on Sponge Bob. He knew this was one of House's favorites
but couldn't understand the appeal. Maybe if you were six. Or maybe
you had to be drunk or even high. He got up once more and patted the
pockets of his jacket, draped over the back of a chair. Yes, he knew
he'd put a bottle of House's drug of choice in there. Just in case
House ran out. He rattled the bottle the way he often saw House do
it, then opened the top and poured out a couple. he stared at them
for a full minute before tossing them back in his throat.
But he couldn't swallow them dry. He got a bottle of water to wash
the pills down, then wondered how long it would take before he'd
feel any effects, or even what he'd feel. What would they do for
someone without the pain that House dealt with on a continuous basis?
After a short while he began to feel sleepy, no, not sleepy, just a
little hazy. He didn't feel anything, literally. He was almost numb
in fact, except for a desire to sleep and, oddly enough, he was also
hungry.
Back to the minibar one more time. He supposed he could have called
for room service. It wasn't too late and, in fact, the hotel had
24-hour room service. But he didn't want to have to wait or to decide
what to order. Junk food would be fine, better than fine.
He found chips and those packages of crackers with the 'cheese' that
wasn't really cheese and didn't taste like anything Wisconson or
Switzerland ever produced. He finally decided that a Snickers bar
was what he wanted. He ripped off the wrapper and bit into it
hungrily. Before he knew it he'd finished the whole thing.
Now what? There was one other thing calling his name. In fact the
package had it written all over. Jimmy snacks. Funny, he never tried
them before. He opened the foil bag and popped two into his mouth.
Hmmm. Very good. They tasted like his pancakes, but crunchier. He
ate another couple as he settled back on the bed and began to smile.
Now these were excellent. Just a couple more and he'd stop.
You know, things weren't really so bad after all. It was nice to just
rest here in the silence, without anyone bothering him. Maybe he'd
eat one more Jimmy snack. He reached into the almost empty bag, then
had to smile when he suddenly noticed that it said:
Bet you can't eat just two
and below that, in finer print he could barely read with his blurred
vision:
The snack that's better than crack.
********************************************
Disclaimer: I didn't invent Jimmy snacks. They were the creation of a deranged fanfic writer named Andrew for a fanfic called Jimmy Doo and the Chairman of the Board written by Jellybean for the Fox/House boards.