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.”