The Splurt of the Ragamuffin

Post CCLXXXIX

Here’s the story of avoidance, illness, and PANIC!

Walking around in a hazmat suit may be a little too inconvenient to be of any practical use. But it does leave one in a quandary. I will expend all my energy trying to avoid the sick person in the house. I’m not above using a hazmat suit. My dad is full of flu, you see, so I’m doing all I can to avoid him. I have things to do! Plans and schedules that will have to be rescheduled and replanned. And think of the delays to all my future plans! I can’t live in a world without order and logic. ‘Ah, just go to bed.’ WHY WILL NO ONE THINK OF THE PLAN! As you can imagine, when someone gets sick, I get a tincy bit antsy. My life would be over if I fall ill. I’d never get back to the way it was. I’ll be paying for that illness for yonks. So I’m now doing the obvious. Washing my hands every minute. Opening doors by pulling my jumper over my hand and turning on taps much the same way. Pulling my jumper over my nose and mouth every time I’m anywhere near dad. I will get sick though. The universe has always had it in for me. I was delighted to get to work this week, away from the illness. Oh, wait, no, everyone there also has the flu. Damn you, universe, you rotten little bleeder…

You shoulda seen the look on my face, as I went for my nightly ten o’clock shower, when I discovered dad had had a bath. “ARRGH! KILLER GERMS EVERYWHERE!” Some would say it’s an overreaction, that people will inevitably fall ill. I on the other hand, feel you couldn’t be more wrong. If we didn’t hang around sick people, there wouldn’t be any flu. If we isolated everyone who got a cold, I’d guarantee you that we’d wipe out the common cold within a decade. When have you ever not caught a cold from someone at work or on the bus or at home? So why don’t we just lock them up! Don’t tell me it’s not their fault. Far more people don’t cover their sicky coughy mouths when they splurt up lung juice than do. And do you know why they do this? Because they want you to get sick. Either in the false hope that the act of coughing will eject the germs from one’s system, or, more likely, certainly in Britain, you want others to be as miserable as you, you utter selfish tarts. Someone was doing that right behind my head on the bus last week. I took my mind of it, however, by spending the entire journey gazing in wonder at the back of the head of the old Greek man in front of me, who had, no doubt about it, the best comb-over I’ve ever seen in my entire life…

Sick people might be, inevitably, getting angry here. I’m surprised about that, I must say. I mean, how can you see your computer screen? It must be completely covered in all that gunk you’ve just coughed up all over it. I know you certainly wouldn’t cover your mouths, because nobody seems to, these days. They don’t block their noses, either. Have you noticed that? I was always taught as a kid, as was everyone, that when you sneeze, you pinch the end of your nose. But, suddenly, over the last few years, everybody has stopped doing that, haven’t they? Every single time anyone sneezes at the office or on the bus or on the street, straight out into the open. No covering whatsoever. I can’t remember the last time I saw someone covering their nose or their mouths. I was most certainly taught to do those things as a kid. Have I travelled into a parallel universe or something? Literally, overnight, people just stopped doing it. No idea why. It could be a parallel universe, I suppose. Only I would be a virgin on multiple Earths…

‘Oh, we can’t help being sick. Be nice to us.’ What do you call that cup of tea, then! How many people are we nice to every day that we absolutely hate? Have sick people any idea the danger I’m putting myself in. Thousands of hours of planning down the toilet! All because I was being ‘nice’ to you. Do you think that’s fair! Of course not! You should be locked in a cabin the woods until you’re better, I say. I’m sorry, but I want to live! I don’t want your leprosy…

I do wonder if I was living alone if I would ever get sick. I mean, do people trapped on remote desert islands get ill? Of course they don’t. I mean, we have no way of knowing, of course. I assume there are shipwrecked ragamuffins out there on deserted islands. How would we know? If we knew, they wouldn’t be deserted. Hmm, regardless, I’m right. What? How can they have a cold! The only thing they’ll have is mad cow disease. What? You’d get very lonely…

I did flunk biology, before biology majors start shouting at me. “Well, I think you’ll find, right, that actually…” I DON’T CARE! I also didn’t do all too well at English, either, before English majors start shouting at me because I don’t actually mean biology and actually mean something entirely different. Of course, there is a slim chance I’m right and this entire paragraph was a waste of everyone’s time, in which case, have an apology ice cream on me. I don’t have any change, so can you pay for it?

You know what the worst part of all this, is? The phantom illness. The original title of a Star Wars film, don’t you know. It’s the worst. You do all you can, literally everything, from the door handle thingy to wiping the toilet seat and bathtub down with antibacterial wipes, to… what, just me? Come on, now, be honest with yourself, you’ve done that too. In fact, I bet that you do it a lot. Like after your girlfriend has thrown up in the toilet. Yes, I wouldn’t be there for that, either. ‘Oh, a gentleman would hold her hair back.’ No, no… no, he wouldn’t. A gentleman would give her a bobble…

You get these phantom symptoms when you’re around an ill person. ‘Is my nose blocked up?’ ‘I’m sure that was a flu cough.’ And so on. You convince yourself that you have fallen victim to the great cosmic bastard known as the universe. You start whimpering and collapse to your knees, desperately banging the floor. “No, no! This isn’t fair! I had so much to do this week! Why me! Why me, God! It’s not fair, it’s not fair – damn you all to hell!” Some would also call this an overreaction. Maybe, but it doesn’t half make you feel a whole lot better. Whisky sees to the other half.

This is the stage I’m at. I’ve done all I can but my throat feels a little tetchy and the first sniffles are coming. I’m convinced of it. I’m convinced my week is ruined. I’m convinced all my plans will falter, although by God, I’ll carry on as long as I can. Valiantly charging onwards until I fall like a man out walking his dog in the Yorkshire countryside has just stepped on a landmine. What? There are lots of landmines out there. It’s why any developers reading shouldn’t develop that land. It’s not at all something we say to keep them away. Ahem.

Whether I’ll fall victim to the great doom remains to be seen, but one thing is for sure. I wouldn’t mind being locked up away from others until I’m better, and that, I think, proves I’m a shining example to others on how to treat our ill. Lock ‘em up. Admittedly, doing this sounds far harsher written down than it does in my head, but don’t worry about it.

They’ll be fine. I’ll make sure they’ll have cupcakes…

British comedian and musician, Tommy Cooper (1921-1984), once said: “A man walks into a doctor’s office. ‘What seems to be the problem?’ asks the doc. ‘It’s… um… well… I have five penises,’ replies the man. ‘Blimey!’ says the doctor. ‘How do your trousers fit?’ ‘Like a glove.’”

Peace Out :|:


I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. You can leave a comment and/or like this post below, or by clicking the title on the top of this post if you are on the ‘Archives’ page. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks.


Please feel free check out the latest posts from my other blog:

To Contrive & Jive
New Posts Every Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday
Click Here to Read the Latest Post


Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s