It had been a rough three days of shifts. 12 hours on, 12 off. And seldom had I ever seen such a stretch of woe and morbidity. A lot of it was self induced. It is almost as if the long winter had finally depleted the last reserves of alcohol and meth and heroin in the area, and the ambulances were running like mad hauling in folks with the stormy tremors of withdrawal or the odoriferous, languid zen state that comes when your liver finally surrenders.
I needed something to cheer me up.
So I stopped by the local Store that Sells Everything. Because I knew that way in the back I would find:
Lean over the side with me.
Ahh. Feel better yet?
Despite being exactly the same shade of yellow as the end stage cirrhosis patients they are pretty darn cute, and such a bargain!
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