The pharmacy just before 6 am. There's nothing like it! It's a Hopper painting with bonus bad R&B muzak and the smell of floor cleaner.
I bet this is what Death will be. Slightly dirty white floors, sterile piped-in music, waiting on plastic chairs, bright and cheerful signs about terrible things, and waiting for someone in a white coat to do something about the god-damned pain.
Comic relief: my pharmacist was Mrs.Doubtfire again. It's not that she's transgender. This is Southern California and no one cares. It's that she seems to have modeled herself exactly on La Doubtfire. I was wondering if I would be a victin of a walk-by fruiting as I left.
When the haze of the stupid pain pills disappears I am going on a walk. Yeah, you heard me. A god-damned walk! In the NATURE BITS!