I just went downstairs for a quick fish supper, and hoping to scrounge a smoke. No luck on the latter front, but on my way back up the stairs to my room, I saw a faint tinge of purple on a step, stood on it and felt something hard and round under my toe.
Went to pick up the rubbish and throw it away, only to then find out it was nothing of the sort, but instead of trash, found I'd just picked up a decent dose morphine tablet.
That was a very welcome surprise indeed. I had been reading a very good (IMO) sci-fi novel online, and it was getting interesting right about now, but I'd dosed myself with a sedative and was waiting for it to kick in, and thought I'd have to tear myself away from my book or be unable to sleep once my last dose of morph wore off, due to a combination of the otherwise everpresent pain, and if I didn't sleep, withdrawal would prevent it, until I picked up the pill that some dozy paki pharmacist shorted me.
Actually it's idiocy and failure to check what it was doing worked to my benefit, although also to my at the time anger and annoyance. It had the sheer gall to actually turn up at my house last night, telling me it had given me the wrong meds, oxycodone rather than morphine, and was demanding them back. I told it in no uncertain terms never, ever, to show up here again. And that it would get back the pills once it went back to the pharmacy it runs and brought me my actual script, then and there. Fucker turned up right as I was going to strip and dive into my bed for the night, at about half past midnight.
Of course, waiting for it to return with my pills, the ones I should have been given in the first place, I managed to take the opportunity to palm a handful of those too, claiming I had no idea they were the wrong ones (true, at the time the paki turned up) and that I had accidentally dropped part of the remainder down the back of my shelving unit. Cheeky pigfucker actually had the nerve to ask me to move the thing or take it apart to recover the 'lost' ones. Told it to get fucked more or less, and hurry up and get my damn meds. Had it drive off, reopen the pharmacy, get them and deliver them back to me.
Even after bottling up the right KIND of tablets, the sustained release morphine ones, still didn't count them, and shorted me one.
I'll be going up there tomorrow to make sure it hands it over.
And as it left, made sure that it understood my warning never to step foot near my house again.
Not that I would waste perfectly good chemicals doing so, but it just so happens that the lab is situated directly above the front door, one floor up next to my bedroom...and the thought of tipping a beaker of boiling hot red fuming nitric acid over it's head from a great height did cross my mind and put a rather evil grin on my face.
Not going to do it though, as it would be a waste of perfectly good HNO3, which isn't free
