"What ye dever see a dwarf with a cold before? Ye see dorbally I keeps beh beard ad boustaches ibbaculate, but sidce I got this here cold it had't beed so easy."
The hand returns to the folds of the furs and the entire pile shudders. "Dod't ye laugh! I got a chill!"
The apparently ill dwarf continues to mutter, "I'd be well by dow if it wasd't for the bloody goblid what called hisself a doctor! Shady goblids! Listed to yer elder, dod't ever trust a goblid what calls hisself a doctor. Fer that batter dod't ever trust a goblid period!"
At this point his angry mumblings become rather incoherent but you can make out a few words here and there which include "goblid jubper cables" and "ad I had't eved stopped breathigg!"
The hand shoots out of the furs again and waves frantically and the dwarf yells, "Bahh! Dow I cure behself with a real dwarved cure! Bartedder! Bartedder! Brigg beh yer stroggest ale, ad bake it a double!"
The bartender rushes two small cups to the dwarf. As the dwarf grabs the first cup he says, "Bahh! That's all? I was expectigg subthigg a little bigger. Ah well, bottobs up!"
The bartender shrugs and walks away as the dwarf downs the first cup in one gulp, then sighs deeply before drinking the other down just as quick. Then he leans back and emits a massive belch and a puff of smoke.
The dwarf gasps and asks, "What was that?"
The bartender nonchalantly replies, "Caraway Burnwine, shipped special from Dalaran."
"Well if that did't burd up all the buggers id beh belly bakin be sick, well thed I dod't have ady idea what will!"
As you turn to leave you hear the dwarf whisper to the bartender, "Cad I get the dabe of yer codtact id Dalarad?"