Sick Elmo

“Oh, cursed virus”, Elmo cried! The wet rainy weather had sent a chill through Elmo’s bones and planted a frog in his throat. Now his voice was lower than Elma’s IQ. As he lay in bed, Kleenex close at hand, he saw that Thursday would be windy, and mostly cloudy with a 50 percent chance of rain… especially during aftenoon. High’s would be in the lower 50s. He’d better get his voice back before Friday when it would be sunny, high in the upper 50s to lower 60s, so he could serenade his Elma. For now he would have to work on his best Barry White impressions. “I love your style, baby.