A COURSE OF MEDICINE

Sometimes a sneeze can have dire consequences

The President had a weakness.

Although he was widely considered to be the most powerful man on Earth with his thumb invariably hovering over a bank of nuclear buttons, he wasn't perfect. Far from it. Physically.

He had hypertension. Blood pressure. If he didn't take prescription medicines for it the reading on the doctor's little dial became astronomic The systolic number was over 200!

His doctor knew about it, of course, and prescribed a really effective drug. Without me naming it here I'll explain that it had a few known side-effects.

One of them was heart attack, which it was meant to prevent. Another of them was death, which it was also meant to prevent.

“They're most unlikely, sir,” the doctor had said with a smile. “They have to put them on the list just in case: it means they can't get to be sued if a patient keels over as a result of swallowing a few milligrams of the stuff, but you can take it from me �" it's as safe as houses.”

“That's a relief,” mumbled the most powerful man on Earth. “So there are no side-effects I might need to worry about?”

“It might give you slight nasal irritation, sir. You might find your nose running occasionally. Nothing more troublesome than that!”

“Then I'd best take the stuff,” grumbled the President.

“You'd be wise, sir. The alternative is the possibility of a heart attack or stroke any time, out of the blue, and you don't want that, do you?”

The President didn't, so he swallowed his pills gratefully.

Then he went to his bunker.

There was news of trouble in the Middle East, trouble that might need his most urgent attention and, who knows, someone might need to be nuked. It wasn't a pleasant thing to think about and he was no warmonger (though, like all Presidents, he did like the idea of his name being associated with a victorious altercation with somebody nasty in another land, for posterity, for the history books yet to be written).

His hypertension had receded, and his doctor had smiled and said he might last for ever now the problem was being tackled.

“Just keep taking the pills, sir,” he had said.

And the President had.

The uprising in the Middle East was beginning to peter out, which, he suppose, was because of the might of his own threats. Everyone paid attention when Mr President spoke out. They had to. His was the power and the glory!

Then, as he sat there musing over his own inestimable power, his nose started running and a prickle began to explode in his left nostril. The damned doctor had been right, and this was unpleasant. It happened too often for comfort.

His nose dripped.

It dripped onto the bank of nuclear buttons he was sitting in front of.

But that didn't matter because he guessed they must be waterproof. The prickle didn't go away, though. That prickle became huge. Like a sexual orgasm in the wrong place it coursed through his body and came out of his mouth in one explosive sneeze. It was a monumental sneeze. It shook the fabric of the building even though the structure was said to be bomb-proof.

And the Deputy President chose that moment to wander into the bunker.

“Some sneeze, s...” he began with a smile, and then he noticed.

The President's arm, animated by the sneeze, crashed down on the panel of bright red buttons in front of him.

“Christ!” whispered the Deputy President. And so he should!

He had caught his immediate boss in the act of starting World War Three!

“Bloody pills!” moaned the President, belatedly.