A moment later, my cell phone rings; it's my boss. For fucksake, I just left the office! Goddamn it, fine! I'll answer it.
"Hello?"
"Yeah, hey. So I need you to help me out. My wife can't do the errands and our maids are busy, I need you to come over to ask my wife what she needs you to do."
"Uh, alright. So it's your wife that wants me to--"
I hear my boss give a long sigh and hang up.
Damn it! I throw my phone on the floor in anger and grab a beer from the center console. I pop it open and guzzle down what feels like half. I seriously can't stand this job most days.
I take the nearest exit and eventually make a u-turn to head back to the office. The sun blasts my face with intensity as it sets in the west as I chug some more beer.
I arrive on the block of my office and park on the street. I finish my beer and throw it under my car as I make my way to the door. I knock and put my ear to the door: I hear my boss inside on the phone making a lot of loud yelps. I open it and cross the threshold to find myself in our office but in total disarray. The bookshelves and cabinets are nearly overturned and there is printer paper everywhere. I notice the printer is shooting out blank faxes and is ringing off it's hook. I see my boss in his office as I take a deep, long breath as I enter to speak with him--
"What are you doing? Why is there paper everywhere? What does your wife want??"
"Never mind that now! She told me. I'm on the phone with the pharmacist and my wife. I can do things faster than you. We are trying to make a payment on the medicine she needs."
"I get it, but what's with all the printer paper??"
"Oh, the pharmacist is trying to fax over a bill but I don't know what the machine is doing and I can't do anything to stop it, I tried. My guess is we are out of ribbon ink. Could you head up to the A&P and get some?"
"Alright, alright...wait a second. You want me to go get more printer ink and your wife's meds? Isn't there some form of patient confidentiality laws either I and/or the pharmacist would be breaking?"
"Ok, fine. I'll get your wife's medication, and the ink. Which pharmacy is it at?"
"The CVS off Vine."
"Thanks. Alright, well, I'll be back in an hour."
I gather myself and back slowly out of his office as he stares me down in stoney silence. My boss is weird.
I jump back in my car and turn it over. I roll down the block in search for the CVS off Vine. I pass a street that looks familiar; yes, I think this is it. Yep! CVS, ahoy. I pull into the parking lot and enter through the front.
I make my way to the back where I see the pharmacy sign. The counter is empty as the pharmacist asks:
"Hello, how may I help?"
"Hey. So I'd like to fill this prescription for a family I work for. I don't have any information other than their address and driver's licenses, can you still help?"
"Oh yes, I was on the phone with them for some time. Let me check the outgoing box."
The pharmacist walks away and a moment later returns with a small white bag.
"Here they are. You must have someone sign for these. Are you authorized?"
"To what? Sign for them?"
"Yes. Under federal law since there have been very few instances of this medication being prescribed, when it is needed I must log it down with a patient or representative signature."
"I understand but, If I have to sign for these meds...I want to know what they are."
"Well...ok, I see your point. They are suppositories for violent diarrhea and bowel syndrome."
I stare in stunned silence. The child within me is laughing hilariously. I loudly laugh in the pharmacist's face and have to hold the counter for support. My sides hurt! My boss' wife needs ass pills!!
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