Word around the cottage is that you're irking everyone's shit. Snow White's too much of a pussy to say anything so I thought I'd spell it out for you.
Quit stopping to smell the roses. Every fucking time you do, you start sneezing. When are you going to catch a ride on a clue bus? You have allergies, you immune-challenged twit. Frankly, I'm tired of asking if you have a cold only to be told, "I don't know what it is. I've never had allergies before but it seems like something in the air has been bothering me over the past couple of years."
Duh. Are you Dopey?
Your nose is red and chapped, your eyes are watering, you're running through Kleenex, and you're giving Grumpy a run for his whiney money. I'm starting to think you like the attention.
Quit trying to steal the thunder with your thunderous eruptions. Down some Claritin, rock a neti pot (I bet you could borrow one from Doc, who I understand is dabbling in homeopathic treatments these days after concocting an herbal poultice that was quite effective in leeching poison out of Snow White), and get a humidifier. And for the love of whatever god you worship in the forest, please stop the sweeping; dirt floors are not exactly ideal for someone of your delicate disposition.
If this continues, I'm going to have no choice but to go boy-in-the-plastic-bubble on your wee ass and stick you in a dust-free sphere, away from your peeps. If this sneezing continues, you can call me Punchy as I break your nose and hope the blocked nasal passage stops the sniveling. Or maybe I'll just put us all out of the misery by smothering you with a hypoallergenic pillow. Sneeze on that, bitch.