Sarah Hawkins was hard at work, serving her customers at The Benbow Inn, which was not easy considering she had no help. Her son, James "Jim" Hawkins was still in bed asleep; he was only 16, so Sarah knew it was just typical teenage behavior. By now, however, Sarah was growing frustrated and knew that she needed Jim's assistance.

After serving a hot pot of tea to one of the customers, Sarah walked upstairs and went into Jim's room. She found him turned on his side, facing the wall, and sound asleep. Sarah rolled her eyes and walked up to the bed.

"Jim, you cannot spend all day in bed." Sarah said.

Jim only groaned and pulled the covers over his head. "Not now, Mom."

"I need help with our customers. I don't have the time to get you out of bed."

Sarah pulled the covers off of Jim, and he sat up in bed. It didn't long for Sarah to see small, red blisters on Jim's hands.

"Jim, what happened?" Sarah asked.

Jim looked down at his hands and sighed. "It's nothing, Mom. It must be some sort of allergy."

Sarah, not buying Jim's story, pulled up the sleeves of his nightshirt and saw that the blisters were all over his arms. Jim jerked his sleeves back down and climbed out of bed, searching for his clothes.

"Jim, they're all over your arm. This isn't just an allergy."

Jim shrugged. "Come on, it's not too bad."

Sarah sighed. "Jim, Doctor Hemming is downstairs for breakfast, I can ask him to see what is going on."

"I don't need to see a doctor. Especially the senile Hemming."

Sarah, in no mood to argue with Jim, gave another sigh of defeat and left the room. As soon as she was gone, Morph, a little blob able to morph himself into anything, came out from underneath the bed. He floated up to Jim, and gave him a look of concern.

"I don't want her to worry, Morph. I feel fine, so it can't be anything serious."

Jim removed his nightshirt so that he could change his shirt. By standing in front of the mirror, Jim could see the blisters covering his back. When he faced the mirror, he saw the blisters were also on his chest. Morph studied him, his expression of concern not changing.

"It's nothing." Jim put on his shirt and pulled it down. "It's nothing."