Weatherhuman With Runny Nose and Sniffles: “Bwub! Thicksst! Grulbb! Uhhh!”
Weatherfriend Morphing Into Ray Charles: “What the hell was that?”
WH: “Sorry Ray, I was imagining myself as a giant infectious microbe. That’s how microbes talk.”
Morphing Ray Charles Friend Whose Actual Name Is Steve: “What? Who?”
WH: “I have a cold, Ray. The microbes have control. I’m leaking on everything.”
Steve: “You drank a whole bottle of Robitussin again, didn’t you?”
WH: “That’s none of your damn business, Ray.”
Steve: [Looks of concern.]
WH: “Unless, of course, you have some on you.”