Prescriptions

So I’m getting sick and had to go to Walgreens to refill a prescription for an antibiotic. Sounds like a simple trip, right? Wrong. Absolutely could not have been more ridiculous. As I walked into the store, I scanned the area. Not a soul in sight. What a relief I though. Waiting in line for a prescription is always a nightmare. I stroll down the aisle. I see the pharmacist. She looks at me and smiles. Opens her mouth and starts to say how can I when a lady steps right in front of me. Imagine cutting someone off in a car and there car careening off the road, flipping over a few times, and then exploding. That was me. Even the pharmacist couldn’t believe what happened. Where did this intruder come from? You would have thought she manifested out of thin air. In my head I threw my hands up in the air and stomped my feet but in actuality I just took a seat.Then the show began. “Can I ask you a question?” the lady asks. “Sure” the pharmacist responds. The lady lifts her sleeve up and shows her arm to the pharmacist  “What does this look like?” she asks. The pharmacist replies, “It looks like a bruise.”

“See that’s what I thought too. It hurts” says the hypochondriac.Both people just stared at each other without saying anything for the next 15 seconds. I start to get out of my seat because I thought this nightmare had ended. “Were you doing any activities that could have led to this?” asked the pharmacist. I sit back down. The hypochondriac admits, “Actually. Yes. Now that I think about it I was. I was doing a lot of dancing yesterday.”  I WAS DOING A LOT OF DANCING YESTERDAY?!?  This must be some kind of a sick joke I thought. I looked around for cameras. I waited for a roar of “surprise!” but it never came. “Well, if you were bumping into people, you could have gotten this bruise from dancing” explained the pharmacist. “What do I do about the pain?” squealed the hypochondriac. Has this woman living in a cave her whole life? What is she talking about? “The pain should subside within a few days” assures the pharmacist. They say their goodbyes and the hypochondriac goes on her way. Ridiculous.  I get to the counter and hand my prescription bottle to the pharmacist. She does some typing on the computer, turns and looks me straight in the eye and says, “You have no refills left.”

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