A fairy tale is a fiction,

A fairy tale is a fiction, but there are many benefits to people in it.

In an unknown invisible country of bacteria and germs, a virus has appeared. Black, round with a large fiery crown on his head and red suction cups all over his body. For this terrible crown he was nicknamed coronavirus. He was a terrible loafer, he didn’t want to do anything useful, such as other bacteria: some turned milk into yogurt, others helped a person digest food in the stomach, others took part in the formation of the dough, so that later bread was baked from it. And this coronavirus virus flew through the air in the smallest particles of moisture and looked out for whom to suck on with its disgusting suckers, in order to then live at the expense of another.

He settled on the surfaces of objects, on people's clothes and sat in ambush for a long time, waiting for a convenient moment. It happened that neat, clean housekeepers washed the handles of the doors of their houses with soapy water, wiped clothes, bags and other things and washed off this malicious virus. But someone might not have suspected its existence and, carelessly hanging clothes in a closet, putting a bag on the bedside table, without even washing his hands, gathered these cunning viruses in his palm. And then he either scratched his eye with his hand, or picked his teeth and please launched a terrible enemy into his body.

This is exactly what happened with the hero of our fairy tale, grandfather Ignat. He didn’t have Internet, he rarely watched television, he heard from the corner of his ear that the coronavirus epidemic was wandering around the world, but he did not attach any serious significance to this. And in the end, the virus got into his body.

Yes, only my grandfather was not simple, but special, even though he did not use the Internet. He did not smoke, did not indulge in alcohol, got up before sunrise, did exercises, doused himself with cold water, worked in his garden, considered the tractor to be idlers, dug the ground with a shovel, even for potatoes, and ate healthy food. In a word, there was a truly indigenous Siberian of the old school. And he also loved all kinds of roots and grass, then he would pick a leaf of wormwood - he would eat it, then he would dig up a dandelion root, then he would brew a wort before going to bed. I didn’t buy tea at the store, I collected currants, raspberries, various fragrant and honey herbs, specially bred them in front of the house.

Feeling a cough and some slight malaise, the old man rinsed his throat with salt water and went on a diet, because mucus and slag like all kinds of germs like passion. He added garlic to his diet, he ate it all the time, but with interruptions, because this vegetable thickens blood, and in old age you need to take care of blood clots, and also buckwheat porridge, which is not easy, but boiled on water, thin and unsalted, With vegetable oil, how many cook, immediately eat, does not leave. Grandfather Ignat read in one clever book about buckwheat that it contains a lot of vegetable protein, which contributes to the formation of antibodies in the blood that increase the body's immunity. At first it was hard for him to eat her unsalted, he even wrinkled out of the habit, and then got used to it, and every morning he began to eat buckwheat before meals, like a medicinal dish. And he noticed that all sorts of stresses and irritants, which are many in our turbulent age, ceased to act on him.

And if some discomfort happens to him, his grandfather did not forget to cheer himself up, that is, to increase his strength of mind. And in this case, Ignat came up with a fun little song to raise the already high immunity:

'I blundered the other day,

The virus caught

If immunity is strong,

Grandfather escaped from illness.

He gave all the germs in the ass,

He threw him back to hell.

Vile reptiles defeated

Strangled by force of mind. '

From these lines, seasoned with buckwheat and garlic, the sleek coronaviruses fell like mowed, mad with fear. For a complete recovery, Grandfather Ignat drank a sip of wormwood, the famous Siberian antibiotic, thereby killing the last virus, which did not even have time to multiply.

The next morning, my grandfather stopped coughing, and as if nothing had happened, early in the morning he went to the garden to work, yesterday he missed his favorite work.