STRESSED? WORRIED? LOW ENERGY?
WONDER CURE FOR THE HUMAN CONDITION
- PANACEA -
ASK YOUR PHARMACIST IF PANACEA IS RIGHT FOR YOU
Casey flipped vacantly between pages of a discarded flier. When boredom struck, it surely struck twelve. Something stuck out and left an impression on the beshelved man. Panacea? Wonder cure...? Casey counted on three fingers, thereby concluding the bold truth - he displayed all these symptoms.
Panacea looked like a good idea on paper. Only Casey didn't have a pharmacist. He barely didn't have a national health number. But, supposed Casey, he could be entitled to a government subsidised health plan if he could convince the right person. At eleven at night there was bound to be a tired, overworked receptionist that would sign off on him. What a cunning fox...thought Casey of himself, to be able to game the system with just a few words. He wandered off in search of a suitable saloon.
The Drop-In Pharmacy blinked neon-red for his attention. Casey blinked back indifferently. A stiff's a stiff, with flashy sign or without. He walked in, hands-in-pockets looking pitiable and staring fixed at the inoffensive blue carpet.
Despite the time of night the waiting room was abuzz with just-about lepers probably looking for a free fix. Casey left the sods well enough alone as he approached the counter, carefully keeping an eye on every one of them. The receptions clerk was a fit blonde bit in a too-tight white jacket that hugged up either side with vibrant red stripes.
Funny, thought Casey with a sly sneer. In an effort to serve the people - to please and relax them, one might suggest - the government displayed their best goods behind tight suits and blinking red signs. In the end you fork over your money anyway...or they rob you while you nap on the couch, he glanced back at the low-life snivelling sods.
Casey planted a palm on the counter-top and as casually as he could manage, spoke near the hot blonde sod.
"I'm looking for service."
He snickered inwardly at his wit.
"I'm here to pick up a prescription for, err...Panacea."
He fidgeted around in his pockets to no avail, unable to present the prescription docket General Physician Angelo had for sure written him last month.
"I'm sorry. Without evidence of prescription, I will be unable to assist you this evening" the blonde sobbed, as if genuinely hurt by her inability to help Casey.
"Listen...I'm terribly afflicted. What kind of publicity would you have if you turned away a patient who was in clear need of medical care?"
The blonde mused thoughtfully, then leaned in with a concerned expression and a low voice.
"May I ask what your affliction is, Sir?"
"The Human Condition," echoed Casey in the words of a discarded flier "as advertised."
The blonde eyed Casey critically, ending in a look of disapproval.
"You don't seem to be afflicted by the Human Condition at all. See that man over there? Now, he needs Panacea."
Casey turned to look where the blonde indicated. In a chair on the wall sat a middle-aged man wearing a pained expression. Worry lines made concentric circles around his eyes which regularly flicked down to white-knuckled hands. The poor sod gripped a palsy leather wallet that appeared stuffed-to-bursting with small change. The sod would loosen his grip on the wallet to ream through the mess and count out his meagre fortune.
"Five...fifteen...thirty-five...eighty.... One dollar, twenty-five.... Just enough for the bus."
The sod breathed relief, but moments later deflated with a look of wide-eyed loss. He pried open the wallet again to count his meagre fortune.
"Five...fifteen...twenty-five...seventy.... One dollar, fifteen.... Not enough for the bus..." he croaked in despair.
Casey turned away with a wave of angst weighing upon him. This wasn't going anything like he had planned. In a brazen attempt Casey demanded to be seen by a professional. What would a bit like a clerk know about his condition anyway? The blonde bobbed out a side door and returned with a doctor in tow.
"The Miss informs me you may be suffering from the Human Condition."
Casey put on his best play yet, pained expression just like the other poor sod. Casey must look like a poor sod too. Unbelievable.
"I'm stressed and worried all the time, Doc! It must be the Human Condition. Or at least I think it is!"
"Dear god man! You must have it really bad if you think you have the Human Condition! Come with me right away."
The doctor led a stoked Casey through the side door and into a back room. The walls were unlike a usual patient room. No charts decorated the walls. No posters encouraging "Hang in there!" This room contained a wheeled-bed, an over-large duffle bag, and a rickety side-table upon which rested a pill-bottle. Panacea.
"Your condition seems to be quite severe. Please don't feel nervous. Just take one capsule of Panacea from the bottle over there and all your stress will be gone in moments."
Casey marveled at what must be at least one-hundred dollars of pharmaceutical engineering. This was it. No more stress, no more worry, no low energy. Casey crossed to the table and shook out a capsule onto his hand, and five more into his sleeve for good measure. He downed it with a feeling of smug satisfaction, then turned the bottle over as he waited for the effects of Panacea to kick in.
PANACEA:
Polyurethane, guar gum, hydroxypropyl methylcellulose, potassium cyanide.