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My sneezes have increased. I believe I have the plague. Mother agrees. She knows death will be coming soon. She has decided to poison me with a foul tasting potion. After much retching I have managed not to swallow a drop. She says poison or sneezing. I choose sneezing. I shall die with dignity. 

(She has a very mild upper respiratory. A simple kitty cold that will resolve itself in a few days with some antibiotics… that apparently don’t taste very good)