Hayfever...

I'm feeling a little dramatic about the state of my seasonal allergies today (total breathing system shutdown in concert with itchy eyes that are desperately trapped beneath puffy pink swollen-shut eyelid piglets). So, in their honor:

Doctor: Lord Marbury, why don't we sit for a moment.

Me: (sneezes) No, Doctor. Just tell me. Give it to me straight.

Doctor: Well, we got the lab results back, and...it's...not good.

Me: (dramatically bites fist, then thinks better of it when post-nasal drip gets in the way) I knew it. I just knew something was really wrong. It's appendicitis of the lymphatic allergy cortex, isn't it.

Doctor: Um, no. I don't even know what that is. I'm sorry, Lord John, it's...hayfever...and it's...TERMINAL.

Me: (sneezes; blows nose with tragically beautiful and sonorous tone akin to that of a french horn)

Doctor: Oh, umm,...and your ex-wife has come back from the grave, seduced the entire hospital staff, and has vowed to kill you...before you die...so, you know, heads up on that front as well, I guess.