Driver's Seat
Sam catches cold
By BOB DRIVER, columnist
| Article published on Tuesday, Nov. 11, 2008 |
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Hear Sam sneeze. See his eyes water. Feel the growing tickle in his throat. Watch Sam use up 23 Kleenex tissues to blow his nose. Blow, Sam, blow.
Sam is getting his yearly cold. Listen to Sam use bad words. “I’d like to take this XXXXing cold and ZZZZ it in someone’s QQQ!” Observe as friends and family steer clear of Sam. Watch as Sam’s girlfriend Tess gets aboard the bus for her mother’s home in Pittsburgh. Bye-bye, Tess. Come back when Sam’s XXXXing cold is over.
Let’s go with Sam to the drug store, shall we? See the clerks standing behind the main counter. Five of them are chatting with each other. Chat, chat, chat. They are highly trained. They abide by the corporate slogan: “XXXX the customer.” No one pays much attention to Sam. Sam is old. Therefore if they even bother with Sam, the clerks will call him, “Hon.”
Hear the music from the P.A. system. “Deck the halls with the little drummer boy’s roasted chestnuts, etc.” Today is Halloween, but already the Christmas music has started. Note the clash between the two holidays’ decorations. In one aisle Santa Claus is strangling a witch as a goblin performs an unspeakable act on a reindeer. Fun, fun, fun!
Sam searches for the cold remedies. He finds eight shelves of them, bearing 3,770 different medicines. How does he know which one to buy? He doesn’t. Sam feels dumb. Dumb, Sam, dumb!
Then he recalls what Tess told him before she fled to Pittsburgh: “Get Anti-muke 88. You must control your mucus!” Sam scrolls the shelves for Anti-muke 88, but instead finds only Anti-muke 44. Sam is puzzled.
A clerk wanders by, ignoring Sam. He calls to her, “Miss?” She stops, irritation oozing from her. “What’s up, hon?”
Sam says, “I’m looking for Anti-muke 88, but I find only Anti-muke 44.”
The clerk looks at Sam with suspicion. “You have to ask for the 88 brand up front at the counter. That’s because it contains methy-eppy-neffron. Drug perverts use it to get high. Are you a drug pervert? You sorta look like one. Maybe I should call security.”
Sam convinces the clerk that he’s a non-pervert. He slinks up front and pays $23.88 for an ounce of Anti-Muke 88. As he leaves, the cashier says, “Han ice day, hon.”
Once home, Sam reads the Anti-muke 88 instructions: “For the love of God, do NOT use this product if you have high blood pressure, fat earlobes, or post-rigid conniption. If you own a prostate gland, even one that works, pour this product down your toilet, RIGHT NOW! Avoid operating balpeen hammers and .12-gauge shotguns. Take two tablets twice a day and stay close to a telephone. Good luck.”
See brave, foolish Sam ignore the warnings. Watch him pop the Anti-muke pills. Hear his maniacal laughter: “Whee, I’m a drug pervert!” Listen as Sam’s mucus dries up and cracks noisily into fragments like an Arctic ice floe in April.
Rejoice with Sam as his girlfriend Tess comes back early from Pittsburgh. “I missed you so, Sam. Forgive me for leaving you and your head cold.” Hear Sam reply, “I’m better now, baby, thanks to you and Anti-muke 88.”
Here the knock at the door. See Sam open the door. There stands the drug store clerk, with a cop. Hear the clerk say, “There he is, officer! He’s a drug pervert!” Watch as Sam is dragged off, kicking and screaming. Bye, Sam! Han ice day!
Send Bob Driver an e-mail at tralee71@comcast.net.
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Article published on Tuesday, Nov. 11, 2008
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