A Card and a Pill;

Ursula's navigation was excellent, and soon they were in a small town. Although it had not come up for debate, Ursula was a city-slicker, and regarded the strip-mall format with some suspicion. She preferred her malls large and air-conditioned (refrigerated in the summer, heated in the winter.) After a moment she gave a mental shrug of resignation; you could not blame the embarrassment of three generations of Minors on a name on a sign. They turned into the first promising niche; it was labeled 'Apothecary.' A white coated lab technician stood behind the counter, smiling invitingly. Sam was not deceived. "You look like a Baker, but without the hat," he offered frankly. "No, I'm a druggist," she answered, putting his offense on a credit plan. "Sure you're not a Chemist?" was Ursula's query. The lab technician knew the alphabet, but a word for pharmacologist that started with an "e" was just NOT available in the lexicon. "The pharmacologist is over there," she pointed, giving Sam a sideways glance. Sam's hunted gaze went straight to Ursula's eyes, as he asked, "Don't you mean a pharmacist?" without meeting the lab tech's stare directly. By their actions, the assistant mistook them for Greeks in disguise. "Pharmaco- is making them, pharmacy- is distributing them," she explained. "I thought this WAS a Pharmacy," was Sam's incredulous ejaculation. "I believe the sign on the door _does_ say 'A-P-O-T-H-O-C-A-R-Y'" the lab tech replied, spelling it out for him in so many words. Ursula nodded understanding, and explained, "We're in the wrong place... we were looking for Kleenex Tissues." "Three doors down on your right," the lab coat whispered... "They have a Pharm M AND a Pharm D."

As the pair made their way back to the truck, Sam was more mystified by the mis-communication than Ursula was, and _She_ was somewhat puzzled. "Was that a Voodoo supply store for 'eye of newt and wing of bat?'" was his question. "I don't think so," she answered honestly. "What _I'm_ trying to figure out is what kind of medicine that Witch thought you were going to take for a COLD! It's a VIRUS, NOT a _Bacteria_!" Sam was easily distracted. "When a virus runs its course, who does it race with?" Ursula regarded him fondly. He was not unarmed in a battle of the wits,. but he would never take Gold at the Intellectual Olympics. "I don't know Sam, but it almost _Always_ gets caught before it finishes," she teased back. He broke the seal on the brand new box of tissues and stuffed the two spare boxes into a cranny.

As they set off again, Sam made a metal note that Ursula was a boring driver, and took up the pharmaceutical theme. He had once heard a whole song just about pills by Alan Sherman. "I once heard a whole song just about pills by Alan Sherman!" he shared. "Who was Alan Sherman?" she asked dutifully, squirreling her 'Extra' away in a nook. "He was the 50's generation's 'Weird Al.'" he explained. "It was off the 'For Swingin' Livers Only' album. It was pretty scientific too, talked about how they wake you up to take a sleeping pill in the hospital and everything. Finished up with 'there's no pill that can cure the common cold,' too, just like you said." Ursula preened. Sam's idea of credentialing was novel, possibly original with him (which was food for thought,) but it was nice to be put on such a pedestal nonetheless. "Do you know the BEST pill to take with you to a discotheque?" she decided to teach him. "Nope," was his monosyllabic reply. Truth to be told, it was not obvious how a pill was supposed to facilitate the experience, but he allowed that psychological enhancements might be possible; she was very smart at the moment. "Oxcytocin," she delivered with satisfaction.

"What's Oxytocin?" he asked without guile, after an appropriately respectful pause. "It's the hormone mothers produce when babies get over sucking out the colostrum, and starts the milk supply." she enumerated. Sam was pretty sure that this did not _entirely_ dispel the mystery, but waited patiently – the milk supply sounded promising. "It is the physical manifestation of trust in your blood!" Sam was turned on. The prospect of random honeys trusting him with their milk supply, in a discotheque, had possibilities that extended beyond refrigerated Texaco. He worded his next question carefully. "If you break the pills in half, do they lose strength?" he asked. This unexpected intelligence pleased her brain, and she became physically aware of him. She returned his volley without spin. "Oh, it's not like OxyCONtin... that stuff will put you to SLEEP!" "If you give it to a honey will she sleep WITH you?" he asked unguardedly. Ursula could see that he was in no real danger of straying and took no affront. "You actually have a better chance with Oxytocin," she replied kindly. Sam made a mental note that Ursula liked Oxytocin, and continued. "Why doesn't Oxycontin work if you break the pill?"

Ursula was honest with herself. The in-organic chemistry of Oxycontin was simpler than the bio-chemistry, and she didn't even fully understand the IN-organic chemistry. However, Sam was not knowledgeable, and a little knowledge was a dangerous thing. She decided to have a little fun at his expense and teach him just enough to be dangerous. She knew that vandalism was wrong, but she just didn't care WHO paid to teach him enough to be safe again - she'd put him through graduate school herself if she had too; it was going to be WORTH it.

"The definition of addiction is different than that of alcoholism, Sam," she began. "Alcoholism is a metabolic dependence on alcohol, whereas _Addiction_ is the quality of a substance to need more and more of it to achieve the same effect. The scourge of addiction has the smallest sliver of a silver lining. Whatever dose you start out with can set the level of your high. Too much of an unfamiliar drug will kill you - witness the effects of strychnine, BUT, it can also be like a deep discharge electric battery. You charge it half-way the first time, and ever after, no matter HOW LONG YOU CHARGE IT, it NEVER gets any longer electronic life. Sam had vague memories of Volts, Watts and Amps, but drugs were far more fascinating. "So you can maximize the jading with a minimal dose?" he inquired. "I guess that's one way to look at it Sam," she agreed, "but why are you on and on about _Jading_?"


"Oh, I guess it's just that that's the reductio ad absurdum of the recreational argument," Sam returned between well contained sneezes. "If that's your final destination, why not make it your Goal?"


Ursula regarded this as a kind of 'great circle route,' to the truth, and regretted his current indisposition. "Let's spend the night in a Motel," she replied with total lack of segue. He understood effortlessly - his rhetoric grades had never been very good. "As long as it isn't a NoTell franchise," he smiled. She was more fun than a Nintendo and a joy-stick; the competition in the motel room should be interesting.

"Nature Abhors a vacuum!"