The Doctor is In

How to Avoid the Plague like the Plague

Fall means flu. In fact, fall means a lot of things. It means colourful leaves and pumpkins and hot apple cider. It also means mildew and damp cold and violent expulsions of phlegm. All is not lost, however, because here are five sure-fire tactics in avoiding the autumn bluhs:

Step 1

Are you sick right now? No? Good. Let’s keep it that way. Not being sick is one of my favourite hobbies, and one that I absolutely do not excel at. Nevertheless, step one is to not be sick. Can you do that? Congratulations! You have learned to avoid the plague like the plague. You are free to leave quarantine at any time.

Unless this is you. Then you stay in quarantine indefinitely.

Step 2

Oh, so you are sick. Okay. That’s okay, we can get around that. See, the very moment you find yourself feeling less than perfect, you have to go to a fridge. It doesn’t matter if you’re at work, school, the park, Florida, Mars, whatever. It doesn’t matter. Go to a fridge. Are you at the fridge now? Good. Open it. Is there orange juice in it? What do you mean, “I don’t like orange juice and therefore never stock it”? Congratulations! You are going to suffer a very humiliating, drippy fate.

If you do have orange juice, on the other hand, what you have to do is chug it. Chug all of it. All of the orange juice. You must drink until there is no more. Have you done that? Congratulations! You, unlike the citrus-lacking waifs mentioned above, have managed to stay on the path of the physically sound.

Step 3

Oh yes.

Now that you have emptied your house of all of its liquid vitamin C, your next step is to fight virus with fire. Now, you don’t need to be a professional fire swallower for this act (though it may help). You don’t even need to be an amateur fire swallower! No, what you need to do now is make a giant pot of tea. While I prefer boiling the tears of lesser mortals, I have heard that both green tea and chamomile are quite effective at combating the autumn bluhs.

Have you made your tea? Good. Drink it. Drink the scalding tea straight from the pot. Feel it burn away the impurities from your poor, mangled throat. (For those of a weaker mettle, you are allowed a mug, but know this: you disgust me.) Congratulations! The raw stinging sensation means it’s working.

Step 4

This step is called the human burrito. Shockingly, it neither requires cannibalism nor nutritional counselling of any sort. How many blankets do you have in your house? Is it more than two? Excellent. Gather them in your chosen place of solitude. There are many types of human burrito, ranging from the “cat trapped under a duvet” to the “I sit atop a throne of pillows; how do blankets work again?”

Not to be confused with a cat performing the human burrito.

For the purposes of this step, however, neither of these are very functional designs, thus requiring you to apply the most standard of formations. Simply grasp a corner of your blanket firmly in one hand, then rotate slowly until you are ensconced in a fuzzy wrapping. Repeat with as many additional blankets as desired. Congratulations! Your sweltering environment will assuredly sweat the disease right out of you.

Step 5

Step five must only be applied if steps 1 through 4 prove ineffective. By now, your illness will have rendered you a derelict shell of what you once were, and for good reason: you did not participate in chemical warfare. To truly decimate the virus cultivating its babies inside you, you must delve into the realms of scientific witchcraft. You must take drugs. Not illicit drugs, of course, but simple over-the-counter medicines—the most potent (and therefore most effective) of these being NeoCitron, henceforth referred to as Goblin Piss. Goblin Piss tastes exactly as it sounds and is the perfect example of why all doctors are secretly in league with the Cult of Cthulhu.

An apple a day keeps the shoggoth away.

Once you imbibe this liquid, you will no longer care that you are sick. You will no longer care that you exist at all, in fact, and all will be but a blissful coma of peace. You will pass into the terror/ific sleep of the Deep Ones and when you rise the next morning, you will be both refreshed and rejuvenated. Congratulations! You are now completely r’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn!

With these undefeated techniques now lodged firmly in the back of your brain, you can stride forth in the comforting knowledge that unlike your hapless peers, you will live in health and comfort this coming sickness season (barring, of course, any unfortunate bear-related incidents).

Congratulations!