True Tales from an Austere Kingdom - The Horse Pills

The London papers were full of it. "Plague closes London", "Record Numbers Dead". Consequently there was virtually nobody at my club, so I sat with Cuthbert, who has never missed a day, not even the morning his wife died.

"Very quiet today," I said. 

"It's that new plague. Everyone's staying at home."

"You're not worried?" I said.

"Good lord no, I'm safe." He looked round the room furtively, and withdrew a tube from his pocket.

"My secret to good health. Horse Pills."

"Horse pills?"

"Yes, my horse swears by them. He's never been sick in his life, and if he takes a couple of extra ones before a race he whizzes along."

"But can it prevent the plague?"

"Have you ever seen a horse with the plague?"

"I suppose not, but do they work in humans?"

"I've been taking two horse pills every morning for years, and have I ever had the plague - nay."

"Where do you get them?"

"My vet. Gives me hundreds at a time, they're dirt cheap."

"A plague cure in plentiful supply that is cheap to acquire," I mulled out loud.

"I say. That's an idea."

"Our vicar, Father O'Reilly, preaches all the time against the evils of modern medicine. If I could get him on board we could sell the pills to his entire congregation.  We should go into business."

The pills were a great success, none of my customers died, at least none that lived to tell the tale. I made £800 from the venture, Cuthbert maried his horse, and Father O'Reilly went on to win the Grand National.