Peephole

So it's four o' clock in the afternoon and you're standing on the balcony of your hotel room in Cancun, Mexico, gazing down at all of the beachbound sunbathers and spring-breakers frolicking in the surf. You saved up all year for this trip, only to get shingles the day before the flight. You look down at your bikini-clad figure, covered in scattered patches of scabs and boils. Just typical, you think to yourself. God must have it in for me. All those sessions with the personal trainer (Dylan) and the morning runs in Beachwood Park...what's the use if you can't show off your hot bod on Enamoradisimo Beach? The door to the adjacent room suddenly slides open. You quickly wrap a towel around yourself to hide the sores. You look to your left. It's a hunk in speedo shorts holding a boombox in his hands. He smiles at you and nods his head. "Strawberry told me! Cranberry showed me!" the music blares. You notice something on his hip. Shingles! He smiles and nods his head. Looks like Spring Break is gonna be a blast after all...