Coming In From The Cold

Boone:
God, I feel miserable.

Wyatt:
Me, too.

Me:
Me, too.

Boone:
What do you mean?

Me:
I got your cold.

Wyatt:
You can’t be sick. You’ve got to feed us and stuff.

Me:
I’m trying to rally here. Just take it easy on me.

Boone:
Take it easy? Dude, this is when we need you most.

Wyatt:
Yeah. We’re achy, our noses are stuffy and we’ve got what sounds like a two-pack-a-day cough.

Boone:
It’s a bad cough, dude.

Wyatt:
So, there’s no taking it easy. In fact, I feel a freak-out coming on any minute.

Me:
Please don’t.

Boone:
I thought old people couldn’t get sick.

Me:
No, we get sick just like you.

Wyatt:
Do you teethe like us?

Me:
No.

Boone:
That’s not fair.

Wyatt:
You’re seriously shaking my foundation here, old man. You mean you really can get sick? I thought you were invincible.

Me:
Not invincible. Although, I might not have gotten sick if you guys didn’t insist on coughing right in my face.

Wyatt:
Don’t try to pawn your weakness off on us.

Boone:
Yeah, dude. Not cool.

Me:
Whatever. I’ve got to go blow my nose.

Wyatt:
But, I’m achy. Fix it.

Me:
In a sec.

Wyatt:
That’s it. Freaking out now. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Boone:
Way to go, old man. Like this cold wasn’t bad enough.