Justin: In the Feast of Being Able to. Amen.


Well, I did some things that were less than legal when I was stupiderest (19, 20ish) than than I am stupid now, but none of them ever involved hypodermic needles.

This morning Clarence used his last insulin needle. Clarence is muh kitty and he has diabetes. Lil bro and I used to mock people who gave their lil’ FooFoo shots every day or clipped the hairs off their cat’s rear-end to keep them clean. We always figured, as obsessed as we were with our cats, they were just animals, and there was a line that had to be drawn somewhere. But then came Clarence. Not the first time in life it has happened, but I was wrong. I love my kitty, and although it gets expensive buying insulin and needles, he’s worth it to me. Think I disabled links, but his website is http://www.divecorps.net/clarence/.

So anyway, Clarence and his brother Smokey are 10 years old. Clarence takes a rather large dose of insulin for a cat, twice a day. This morning we used his last needle, so I had to drop by the pharmacy to pick some up. First, I go to Lee Pharmacy on Grand, but they aren’t a normal pharmacy any more. So next I go to Coleman, a little further down Grand.

There is a younger girl – quite cute, I might add! – helping a customer, and she tells me she’ll be right with me. But soon, a large black lady comes to help me.

“I need these needles for muh kitty,” I explain, holding up the torn box-end since I can’t ever remember the size.

“Hmmmm,” she mumbles. “You buy your insulin here?”

“Nope. I get it where ever I can.”

“Hmmmmm, well, uh..” she grumbles, now looking me over with unbelieving eyes.

Now, what she SHOULD have said, without the UUHH HMMMM URRRRR WEEEEEELLL ‘s, is either “Ok, sir, one moment,” or “I’m sorry sir, we have a policy not to sell needles to those who don’t buy their insulin from us.” Instead, she just uhhhh hrrrrr uhmmm urrr welll’d me. Well, it dawned on me what she was thinking.

“Ohh, I see,” I said. “Well, they’re for my kitty, and he has diabetes.”

“UHHH HUUUU,” she replied.

“What’s the problem?” the young girl asked, obviously in authority over the large woman.

Well, I don’t even want to continue this story, it bores me.

The younger girl believed me, the big black woman did not, nor did she remove her disgusted laser beam eyes from me the entire time I was there.

I suppose the fact that my eyes shake doesn’t make it easier for me to buy needles.

Or the fact that I was sick, and sounded raspy.

Or the fact that I was bumming because I was sick, and had on jeans and a t-shirt.

Or the fact that I’m skinny and have lil girl arms that probably look like I do drugs and don’t eat.

Or the fact that I overcompensated when I realized what she was thinking.

“I don’t know what kind of insulin, some kind. Humulin M, I think. Oh, they don’t make that kind? No, I’m sure it’s M. Or maybe N. Either way, I can’t remember, but you should remember me, I bought this handy-dandy knee brace I’m wearing from you a few weeks ago, see? I REEELY love muh kitty.” etc, et al.


I got my needles and left. I can’t wait to go back.

  • So did you get her number? UHMMM HMMM?