Here's Your Sign

This was an encounter so stupid that it bears repeating. This week I got a little busy and did not call in a refill for my thyroid prescription until I had taken the last pill on Friday. Unfortunately, this meant that I had to go to WalMart on a Saturday afternoon. We've all tried to avoid it but somehow at sometime or another we all end up at WalMart (or as I like to call it, "Satan's Butt") on Saturday. So, I found myself at WalMart on Saturday. (I really don't know what it is about Saturday that transforms a normal redneck gathering place into Satan's Butt, but I digress). I stand in a pharmacy line that stretches all the way back to automotive just to get the one prescription that I need to keep me from sleeping 20 hours a day. After an eternity that only rivals a wait at the DMV on the last day of the month (that would be "Satan's Buttcrack"), it's my turn at the pharmacy counter. After I tell the nice lady who I am and what I need to pick up, she asks, "Are you completely out of that particular medication?" I fought the urge to reply, "Nope. I just like to come to WalMart on Saturdays and stand in lines stretching all the way back to automotive. Here's your sign."