Drugs
by Nick Zedd
Chagrined that my writing talent should be squandered on piddling reviews of local drugstores for 11211 Magazine, yet aware that I only had five dollars to my name, I walked over to Saldo Drugs on Graham Avenue to earn 5 cents a word. With the world about to face potentially cataclysmic repercussions in the most important presidential election of our lives, the editors of 11211 feel compelled to focus my attention on a small non-descript pharmacy in Williamsburg for an article no one but the editor and a guy named Sonny will read. That my vast knowledge of world affairs and insightful musings on America’s lemming-like rush to self destruction orchestrated by the Cheney/Bush junta should be unread in order that I inform you about a glass case holding Brita pitchers, alarm clocks, $70 electric shavers and $15 spa therapy kits fills me with enormous pride.
Meanwhile, should the Bush Crime Family somehow steal another election, our empire will be faced with a hostile Europe united against us, a reinvigorated Islamic fundamentalist terror network, a war we already lost in Iraq, and our own theoretical civil war when the economy implodes and enough of us get fed up with the crypto-fascist lunatics on both sides trying to dominate the world for their own short term gain. Special!
Should Kerry win, he still inherits an unwinnable war in the wrong country, massive unemployment and a vicious consortium of unrestrained multinational corporations polluting our planet, squandering our lives and plundering our resources to their hearts content while millions starve and die for no reason.
This, of course is of no importance when one considers that Saldo Drugs sells Crayola washable markers for $3 a box. And lest we forget, Legg’s sheer energy panty hose goes for $3.39! These may come in handy when you decide to stick one over your head and rob the cashier since you have no money.
Which brings us to the cosmic question, why is shampoo so expensive? (Potentially lethal weapons, shampoo bottles can be useful projectiles in both street battles and domestic disputes.) Bad muzak assails my ears as I make note of the fact that Covergirl makeup costs $6.35. Other essential facts you must know: band-aids cost $3.09, monster trucks cost $18, a microwave play set goes for $13, and a talking robot costs $14. Fascinating, right?
After spotting a 79 cent box of marshmallow peeps, I see that a large selection of cheap birthday cards exist along with cards for encouragement, romance and congratulations. To add to the joy of my consumer needs, large trash bags go for $2.49, while a Super Can Sidewinding Can Opener costs $1.99, just like the glue traps! I won’t go into the tissue paper and stationary supplies.
A fat middle-aged lady with red hair sits on a chair bemoaning the pains in her shoulder to a bizarre looking dude behind the counter named Danny. His face is a combination of black and white blotches ornamented by a pair of gold wire glasses. His skin disease makes him resemble a human dalmation or maybe a visiting alien from Star Trek. He eyes me suspiciously as I jot down prices in my notepad. He seems to be middle aged as well, and Indian. Or perhaps Martian. As I gaze at a rack of squirt guns and childrens books, the old lady squints at me, and in a brief respite from her oration on sugar pills and general misery, makes the following observation: ”There’s alot of weirdos.” The freak pharmacist nods in agreement, and fixes a malevolant glare in my direction. They must not be aware that I was voted “Best Williamsburg Celebrity” in The Village Voice Best Of Issue. “Can I help you sir? You taking some notes?” Danny asks. “Yep,” I reply and leave. He follows me, standing at the door, his arms crossed, pointing me out to a kid. They both stare as I walk away on Jackson. Some weirdos are more equal than others in Saldos.