The Drugs Don't Work

The two sat across from one another in the living room doing basically nothing on a Sunday afternoon. That was fairly common, especially on a day when neither worked. For the moment, the older of the two by about a decade, wasn't working at all. Seems he'd tripped over one of his own dogs and in a futile effort to save a plate of leftovers, turned and landed full on his right shoulder. It was a familiar pain, the shoulder had been in ruins prior to this, but pitching a baseball had been the culprit those many years prior. Since the sports doctor back then had decided a future in baseball was unlikely, they simply allowed it to heal without any surgery. Both knew an eighty-five mile an hour fastball was just batting practice, and even a three position utility player had to be a gap hitter, not a slap hitter. Or, of course, be lightning fast around the bags. He'd reflected back on this a time or two after the new injury, but hadn't really expressed it to anyone.

"This shit don't work."
"What shit?"
"These pain meds the doc gave me. This..." Watching his friend bungle the name of the drug made him chuckle.
"Wow, that was a tongue twister!" The chuckle morphed into laughter.

The pill bottle was thrown left handed, of course, and missed by several feet. The young man managed to choke out an old joke about hitting the ocean with a beach ball from a boat between the fits of snorts and laughs. After he calmed down, they started to have a conversation in earnest. Even living in Twin Falls didn't stop one from having a more liberal bent, particularly on some specific issues. Generally, it was the older lecturing youth, but on this occasion, the table had turned.

"You can't be serious."
"I can't? It's only 160 miles to Ontario and you never got the news? "
"I knew something about prescriptions, but this? In Oregon?"
"I shouldn't be surprised you don't know given your browser history."
"Well, if... wait, what about my browser history?!"
"Nothing. Nevermind. Pornhub is a reputable site! Those other right wing..."
"Fucker."
"As often as possible, and I highly recommend it. But really, I'm going to call this guy, and he'll show you."

On a chilly day in Idaho, someone who'd have never though he would be making this kind of a trek, headed out. I-84 was a fairly easy trip unless snow was coming, and it was too early for that. If you timed it right, missing the Boise traffic was also possible. His younger confidant had offered to come, but this was something the man felt he had to do by himself. He crossed the border, followed the pretty voice of his navigation system, and arrived at his destination. With trepidation, he left his vehicle and crossed the parking lot. Upon entering, he was asked for and produced his identification. Bewildered, he took in his soundings. To him, it just wasn't something he thought he would see. In that moment of hesitation, to check things out or bolt for the door, a man walked up.

"Are you my new friend from Twin Falls?" A clerk inquired as he approached.
"Why would you ask that?" The older man asked defensively.
"Cameras. We have to monitor an insane amount. No cameras in liquor stores, though." He rolled his eyes.
"My plate is on tape?!"
"Yeah, but they can't get them without lots of hassle, and we tape over every twenty-four."
"I guess I'm the only guy from Idaho..."
"No, you're the guy I expected from Idaho. One of our regulars called ahead. Come on back." He led them to a small office.

The conversation was not typical for the visitor, but his host had been through much of it before. He explained the active ingredients, some of the things to expect. Most importantly, he reminded his patron that having his purchase on federal land was a crime, and taking it to another state was a similar crime. Also, there was a good motel nearby where he could at least try out his purchases. He did. Later in the week, when he returned home, his pal slipped into the house and sat down with a bit of a smirk.

"The drugs don't work," said the older man. "Plants... they do."

(WC:732)