Please Don't Die

I don't mean to be overdramatic, but there is this guy in the Men's room just across the hall from the DeskSlave's office (part of a shared desk in an unbelievably croweded room, actually, but I like to think of it as an office) making a noise that sounds like



HWAAAAAKHH KAHHHHH HWAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!



I suspect that it has something to do with expectoration* but part of me fears that the sufferer is going to fall into some sort of unfortunate cardiac episode. I fear that not just because I wish all humans well--such a nice fellow, the DeskSlave--but because I think I have probably forgotten all that CPR they made me learn and even if I remembered it, I don't think I'd want to do it on some hacking guy on the floor of the oft-mentioned skanky Men's Room.

So please, sir, get well soon. And get out of here

Compassionately,

The DeskSlave

* This is the only time you will ever see this word not on the side of a cough syrup bottle, BTW.