The Matuto and the Flu

The Matuto is sick. If it’s a cold, a flu or even a sinus attack, he can’t say. Certain is that it walks through the corners of the House of Bridgesfunging, with a dripping and stuffed nose acetamatiles.

The Matuto considers that every man should be entitled to extra attention as soon as he felt a tip of fever. Do nothing but enjoy your puff. The ideal would be to collect yourself to a nursing home, lie down on the bed and have a battalion of nurses from the very faint dress asking you affectionate questions: « So you feel better? ». In fact, everything would be reduced to the diminutive inho. It’s just one more pill; go, one stress; don’t be nasty; Look, a single; Let’s see the thermometer; now, one hole…

Marcello, the reactionary visit of the bridges, often, pontificates about their domestic lines in times of flu:
– given the pajamas, just like toasted with peeled apples and drink fruit juice. I take a tea with honey and the whole family is around. My wife assidates her hand on my forehead and tells me beautiful things, like, « When you’re sickly, we get closer. »
Belinha, the conservative visit of the bridges, frown and countered:
– Tolices! Mariquices!
Dona Sirlei, gives a discreet laugh. The Matuto, Calado, Matuta.

He ponders that these seasonal flu should have his own name. Yes, because all the hairplay has a name has a name. Otherwise, it’s really cold – and that’s much more torn. The Matuto remembers the dreaded H1N1, also called « swine flu. » Now there is a name of burning! It has letters and numbers, which gives you a scientific air, and for the simple, “swine flu” is clarified name. Remember there were deaths, yes sir. But above all, he remembers fevers that lay very good people for land-people who went to bed and only got back to the other side…

The Matuto knows from a safe source that Franz Kafka, picked up a flu and wrote: « The whole world smells of sickness and alcohol. » The Matuto is not sure what is alcohol, but suspects that he is a cousin of Vicks steam and the candy of Dr. Bayard, but with an east European accent. Matuto also knows from a safe source that Grouchomarx, left a recipe for a good mood in bed: « The flu took me, and now who makes me laugh is the doctors. » The Matuto laughed and coughed at the same time – which caused him a sneezing attack. (And there continues to sneeze the chronicle.)

It is confirmed that Matuto thinks there is a certain prestige in being flu when the flu has pedigree. Already a vulgar constipation has no history, does not entitle tea in bed or a « poor thing » with affection. And so, between sneezing and another, the Matuto thinks that perhaps healing is even in the name of the disease. Because « cold » sounds the unimportant thing, but « viral type A influenza, subgroup H3N2 » already seems to deserve private hospital and two days of bed with Netflix and blanket coverage.

Therefore, the next time you are sick, the matuto already knows what to say:
– It’s nothing, no. It’s just a late genetic variation of the Asian influenza H4N5, from 1957. Serious thing, yes lady. And, that’s said, it sneezes solemnity and asks for a tea – with Maria crackers, that the Matuto may be sick, but it is no heretic.

However, it cooks this unnamed, unknown influenza influenza. Tomorrow will go back to work and no one will ask, « So it’s better. »