Beyonce Knowles began her intro. 'Welcome to the show, everyone. *Sniff* It's great to be hi-hi-hi-chiew! here tonight. Hope you're all gonna have a good time. Chiew! Let's start things off with one of our biggest hits, 'Survivor'. Hi-chieeeeeew!!!
'Bless you, Beyonce!' called out the stage director.
'Thank-you. Sorry, guys. Hi-chiew! I can't stop ah-hi-chiew! sneezing to-oh-today. Chiew!' Somebody get me a Kleenex, please. *Sniff* Chiew!!'
Destiny's Child were rehearsing for tonight's concert, at the G-Mex in Manchester, but things were not looking promising. Beyonce continued to sneeze as one of the stage hands passed her a tissue. Hi-hi-hi-chieeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!! Haaaaaaa-hi-chiewww!!!! Hi-mpf-chieeeewwwww!!! Beyonce let out a trio of loud, drawn-out sneezes into the tissue. 'Whew! Needed that! Chiew! Let's hi-chiew! try again.'
'Has it crossed your mind you might have to cancel tonight?' the stage director suggested, drolly.
'No. We never let our fans down. I'll be hi-chieeewww! okay. Just a few sneezes, that's all *Sniff*.'
'Beyonce, you're virtually sneezing your way into next week,' rejoined Kelly, 'I don't think anyone's gonna be interested in a concert where you sneeze all the way through.'
'Yeah,' Michelle came in, 'Everyone would want their money back.'
'Really, I'll be fine,' insisted a slightly embarrassed Beyonce, before stifling a sneeze into her forefinger.
'You're sick, Beyonce, you should rest.' The stage director's words contained a note of finality.
'Hi-chieeew! Okay. You win. We'll have to call off tonight. Hi-chieeeewwwwwwww!!!!!!!! Typical! British weather's given me this hi-chiew! cold. HI-chieeeeeee-wwwwwww!!!!!!!!' As the gorgeous girl band got back into their dressing room, Beyonce shivering and sniffling into her tissue, a curious thing happened. Just as the stage director was wishing Beyonce better for tomorrow, all three beautiful black babes developed a similar expression, their faces contorting ever so slightly, then more so, as Beyonce, Kelly and Michelle let out shrill, shimmering, simultaneous hiiiiiiii-chieeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!s in triplicate.
'Bless you all! Get some more tissues for the ladies, sharpish, and make them some lemsips. Hope you're feeling better tomorrow, girls,' the stage director cooed comfortingly. He didn't, though. Not really. At least, not for a couple more days. His conscience pricked like a pin. All those disappointed fans. But the girls would get better, and maybe they might let a few out when they did perform, which would be a sheer delight, at least for him and for his kind. As the stage director left the dressing room, to the sound of many a Destiny's Child sneeze, taking care to remain in earshot, he mused on how fortunate he had been to witness this particular harmony vocal set, and remembered to forget to turn the heating on.