A Majestic Cold / En majestætisk forkølelse

A Majestic Cold

The Majestic Medicus, Master of the Elementary Elements, Alchemist Superior Dr. Alfred Schuster was disappointed that for all his insights into the workings of God’s nature (not the nature of God which remains ad infinitum beyond the reach of man’s mind and eyes – another disappointment) he couldn’t get over his head cold which frankly just as well could be called a chest cold, a finger cold, a lower back cold as all these – and more – areas of his corpus also seemed full of mucus and aches and brewed a pot of chamomile tea just as the simple folks in the chamomile fields would do it. No shiny mercury, no powder of unicorns’ horn, no distilled light from the North Star … just a handful of dried flowers and boiling water. How common.

“But”, he said to himself, “this just shows that I am an ordinary human being not better or worse than anybody else – except maybe for that wretched Morgenstein” (who claimed to have put life into a stone, which turned out to be a bug-infested potato and thus had – if only for a few weeks – challenged Schuster’s position as Magicus Grande) “and perhaps Pferdfeld”, he thought and spat out the window to spread his germs seeing the wind was right to carry them into Pferdfeld’s chambers, though he couldn’t quite remember what Pferdfeld had done to him; he just didn’t like the way his nose seemed to constantly point to his (Pferdfeld’s) manhood as if to suggest “Mine is bigger than yours”. “Now, I will let this illness be a lesson in humility”, he said to himself and wrote an edict which gave all week days new names except Wednesday – Wednesdays were bongo days and he didn’t want to do without that weekly day of drumming; “As long as you play the bongos you cannot make wars”, he said when he instigated that World Peace Day Law aeons ago … and he felt that he had accomplished a wee bit that day.

All in all it was a slow day in Dr. Schuster’s life and head. For a moment he thought about making it a law that everyone should walk like under water so he could keep up, but saw it would include his servants too and at some point he would run out of chamomile flowers and someone had to bring him new ones. He coughed and dreamed of snot free days.

with a little engineering a Kleenex tree

.

 

En majestætisk forkølelse

Den Majestætiske Medicus, Mesteren af de Elementære Elementer, Den Højeste Alkymist Dr. Alfred Schuster var skuffet over, at han for al sin indsigt i hvordan Guds natur (ikke naturen af Gud, som ad infinitum ligger hinsides menneskets hjerne og øjne – endnu en skuffelse) ikke kunne komme over sin forkølelse, som sad i hovedet, i brystet, i fingrene, det nedre af ryggen og mange andre steder i hans corpus og fyldte dem med slim og smerter og brygge (endnu) en pot kamillete på samme måde som de almindelige mennesker, der boede i kamillemarkerne, ville gøre det. Intet skinnende kviksølv, intet pulver af enhjørningens horn, intet destilleret lys fra Nordstjernen … kun en håndfuld tørrede blomster og kogende vand. Hvor almindeligt.

“Men”, sagde han til sig selv, “dette viser blot, at jeg er et almindelig menneske, ikke værre eller bedre end alle andre – måske bortset fra den nederdrægtige Morgenstein” (som havde hævdet at tiløre en sten liv, en sten der viste sig at være en kartoffel inficeret med insekter og således – dog kun for et par uger – havde udfordret Schusters position som Magicus Grande) “og måske Pferdfeld”, tænkte han og spyttede ud af vinduet for at sprede sine baciller idet vinden stod rigtigt til at bære dem ind i Pferdfelds værelser, selvom han ikke kunne huske, hvad Pferdfeld havde gjort ham; han brød sig blot ikke om, hvordan hans næse uophørligt pegede ned mod hans (Pferdfelds) manddom som for at sige “Min er større end din”. “Nuvel. Jeg vil lade denne sygdom være en lektie i ydmyghed”, sagde han til sig selv og nedskrev et edikt om, at nu skulle alle ugedagene hedde noget andet; på nær onsdag – onsdagene var bongo-dage og han ville ikke være foruden en dag med bongotrommetrommeri; “Så længe I spiller på trommer, kan I ikke lave krige”, som han havde sagt, dengang han startede “Verdensfredens Dag” for længe længe siden … og han syntes, at han dog havde udrettet en lille bitte smule den dag.

Alt i alt var det en langsom dag i Dr. Schusters liv og hoved. Et øjeblik overvejede han at lave en lov, der sagde, at alle mennesker skulle bevæge sig som under vand, så han kunne følge med, men indså at det også ville gælde hans tjenere, og at han på et tidspunkt ville løbe tør for kamilleblomster og nogen skulle jo bringe ham nye, når han havde brugt dem han havde. Han hostede og drømte om snotfrie dage.

med et smule håndelag et Kleenextræ

It's only fair to share...Share on FacebookShare on Google+Tweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInShare on TumblrEmail this to someone