Life is Hard

There went my pharmacists, my former pharmacists. He was being laid to rest by six of his friends, or at least people who he claimed as friends, (I was not invited) slowly walked down an aisle of mourning townspeople. It was a small town, with a name bland as could be, Blanding. There was only one pharmacy, and now no pharmacist. What would happen, would the town dry up and disappear as so many do, without the aid of prescription drugs to keep the populace calm. Without a pharmacy misery would be inescapable. The thought of driving the 17 minutes to the next down is ridiculous, how can any town survive without the essential role of the pharmacist being fulfilled.

As the funeral continued, thoughts unregulated and out of control raced through my mind. Already I was low, so very low.

No one knew how this tragedy could have happened, he was found alone with a Y cut into his forehead. He was so invaluable in keeping depression from us, but who regulated his emotions? As evidenced by what happened, no one did.

With such a large supply of so many helping chemicals, the irony of his death is seen in its manor.

He had an uncontrollable gambling addiction, got in so deep with the Yakusa that their investment could never be returned, so they finished him off. The term uncontrollable addiction seems redundant yet fitting. Surely there is a drug to help, why couldn't he find it.

It makes no sense, Blanding is over a thousand miles from the ocean, and Japan is several thousand more, yet the Yakusa followed him here. My geography isn't at its best, I spent more time in school playing with small animals.

All I can conclude is life is unfair, now I will have a more difficult life, without a pharmacist.

Maybe this is the spark, the hint or message from life that I needed. It is time for me to make a change, a move. I've always wanted to see Japan, and now I have a reason.

Revenge will be my cause and my end, There will be few survivors.

The plane ride was nice, I had never been in a plane before.

Apparently the Yakusa is a large organization, as when I landed and asked directions to their headquarters no one seemed willing to help me.

I decided that those who wouldn't help me were as culpable as those who killed my dear pharmacist. I started to lay waste to those in my path, assuming that all roads would lead to my satisfaction. After my first victim (this time) the police caught me, and extradited me back to America. It turns out I had some skeletons in my closet that I didn't feel were related to this narrative.

Now I have a new pharmacist, and he makes sure I get my pills. The padded walls are nice as well...

The misery is gone, replaced with a blessed numbness.

During the trial I also learned the Yakusa didn't kill my former pharmacist, he was in a car accident coming home from a sports game, and merely painted a Y on his forehead, hindsight sure is nice.

-S.O.