Pig Out On Chicken Soup

"What a field day for the heat." quipped General Specific, smiling at the tattered newspaper. It was a pleasant day and the clouds hid the Sun. Platinum Blonde huddled under a blanket in one corner of the bus anxiously waiting for it to come out. She'd read somewhere that hot and sunny weather was a hindrance to the growth of the virus.

The rest of the occupants squeezed together in the remaining seats as far away as possible except for Baby Bitch who lay stretched out on an adjacent seat. If only she could push the windows open, she said to herself for the umpteenth time. She also scoffed at Platinum Blonde every time she groaned or sniffed. Baby Bitch, incidentally, had a headache too.

"Oh, stop it! It's rare enough for someone to contract swine flu in Pseudan and flying pigs fade into the background in comparison to falling death tolls!" ridiculed Baby Bitch realising that no one was really paying attention to her sharp, short and frequent dismissals of Platinum Blonde's symptoms. This time she struck gold as all eyes turned to Ambassador Boeing. Ambassador Boeing, who had been fairly loud with his views until some time back, seemed to have suddenly decided that he had been neglecting his right shoe and it deserved more attention.

"I'm sick!" wheezed Platinum Blonde unconvincingly. “I…” she continued before breaking off to sneeze into her palms. She wasn't really observing any of the listed precautions to prevent the spread of the disease or maybe she just wanted Baby Bitch to fall sick too. Her head did hurt and she was running a temperature with a sore throat. That could only mean one thing, right?

"Cheap flimsy masks which cut down the risk of contraction by no more than thirty percent at most, are the in thing." observed a dejected Director Ms. Leading as she caught sight of something in Platinum Blonde's fists. Platinum Blonde had just bought a revolting pink mask which looked like Aphrodite herself compared to some of the others she had bought earlier. Director Ms. Leading was actually thankful that she was down with whatever it was. That mask was a blunder if ever there was one excluding the Leaning Tower of Pisa. "If the pink one is Donald Trump's hairstyle then the green one's Boy George." she explained making her point clear.

"At the other end of the stupidity spectrum are these idiots who throw caution to the winds to avail festive discounts." added Captain Follow pointing at the pictures in the paper. These security chaps, ironically, felt very vulnerable. There was a picture of a crowd outside some mall and little kids dressed up in costumes and a human pyramid. If ever you’ve been shocked at finding out how many Poles are needed to change a light bulb you’d have a heart attack when you found out the number of Pseudanese it took to break a clay pot.

“Economics text books will leave no stone unturned in reminding you that people make trade-offs and that people are rational.” said Major Minor, enlightening Captain Follow. “The catch lies in that condition. It either makes it conveniently worded brilliance or crying-out-loud stupidity.” he continued. “If you ask me, I’d rather miss classes than risk contracting the virus myself.”

At this point Platinum Blonde interrupted proceedings with a loud wail with which she attempted to communicate that her knee was hurting. The wail was because of her remembering that it was another symptom. The pain wasn’t that bad, just a dull throb, but the wail was as exaggerated as an “India Shining” advert.

Dr. In T. House couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh, stop it!” he mimicked Baby Bitch without even turning around. “It isn’t that bad until tremors show up on your left hand.”

Baby Bitch, who’d dozed off while looking out of the window, woke up with a sharp intake of breath. It hurt. Her shoulders hurt too. But unlike Platinum Blonde’s terrified exclamations about how her left hand was trembling all she could come up with was a weak “I don’t feel so good”.

Heads turned again. An eerie silence gave way to murmurs. Seats were frantically changed. Dr. In T. House sighed and got up from his seat shaking his head. As he limped towards her he said something to Platinum Blonde. A puzzled and slightly embarrassed Platinum Blonde covered her face with that grotesque pink mask again as she slipped past.

Baby Bitch shut her eyes because her head hurt. The sore throat was irritating and hurt as much. Her shoulders felt heavy and hurt too. The quick examination that Dr. In T. House carried out left her feeling sorry for touchscreens.

She didn’t feel so good.