I'm Gonna Sit Right Down and Write My Cough A Letter

Who is that masked cougher?

Last night, in the middle of yet another 3 a.m. bark-a-thon, which I can only hope woke up the party boys next door, I sat my cough down and gave it a good talking to, and it went something like this:

Me:  Hey, cough, are you listening?
Cough:  Hack, hack.
Me:  Do you know how many times you've embarrassed me in the past 32 years?
Cough:  You mean 52?
Me:  Whatever.

Cough:  I like attention, I won't deny it.
Me:  Let's review shall we?
Cough:  Hack, hack.
Me:  There was the time in 7th grade math class when you wouldn't let up and the teacher told me to get some water.  I got up, dumped all my books on the floor, which the class found hilarious, sipped something icky from the faucet, returned to my desk and continued to cough.  More hilarity at my expense ensued.
Cough:  Get over it.
Me:  Then there was the ill-fated oboe recital, Sussex, 1978.
Cough:  I didn't know you play the oboe.
Me:  I don't, but my British flatmate Mandy did.  You wouldn't shut up.  They even caught it on tape for eternity.
Cough:  Part of my greatest hits.  Burn me a CD, I'd love to hear it.
Me:  I find your lack of remorse troubling.
Cough:  Next table.  I don't do remorse.  What I do is --
Me:  Cough.
Cough:  Dwell on the past much?
Me:  Math humilation.  Recital ruination.  Movie interruption.  Restaurant eruption.  Supermarket altercation.  Jury duty courtroom disruption.  I can get past these incidents.  Maybe.
Cough:  Well, that's progress.
Me:  But next month, I make my Broadway debut in "Next Fall" at the Helen Hayes theater.
Cough:  Your debut?  You're sitting in the audience.
Me:   Sitting.  Starring.  Same thing. 
Cough:  I've never worked in NY.  I look forward to it.  I hope there's a nice draft in the theater.
Me:  You're staying home. 
Cough:  What?  You didn't buy me a ticket?
Me:  No.
Cough:  Bitch.
Me:  Takes one to know one.
Cough:  You got that right, sista.