Straight, No Chaser

Sir was battling a cold he caught from his sister when we were visiting for the holidays.

Before bringing him some NyQuil, I asked him if he wanted a drink for after to get that taste from his mouth.

"No, I'm good."

I guess he's being a man, or something. I bring him the medicine.

"An eighth of a cup?! That's a lot!"

"It's two tablespoons."

Sir takes his time with the medicine.

"Ugh!" He shakes his head, loosely moaning like a cartoon, sounding like an exhalating balloon.

"Use your tongue! Get every last drop out of there!" I tell him.

"I'm working on it, I'm working on it!"

"Should I have brought you a chaser?" I say, teasing him.

"I should make out with you right now, just for that!"

Touché, Sir.