Speculative Scenarios

There are times in each of our lives when we witness something so unusual that we are forced to speculate on the series of events that culminated in the scene before us. Like you, I have experienced many such episodes but I wish to address three of them at length.

Scene 1 – Turd in a Tube Sock

The year was 2000 and a group of friends and I were headed to a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert in Little Rock, AR. At some point we stopped at a rest area about an hour outside of town and walking into the men’s room we were confronted with a large white tube sock with the business-end of a crumbler peeking out of it. The sock bore no signs of a struggle and the outside was free of fecal debris indicating an experienced practitioner.

We immediately began to speculate: Was this the original crime scene or had the sock been transported here? If it was the scene of the crime why not use the toilets? If it was not the scene of the crime why get it all the way here and then leave it on the floor? I have to imagine that the only thing more embarrassing than evacuating one’s bowels into a sock on the Interstate would be explaining to someone why you are carrying said sock in a public place.

I am categorically opposed to littering but I can assure you that if one of my socks has to take one for the team that bad boy will not remain in my car past the next mile marker. Needless to say, we left the poo-cozy where we found it and felt fortunate that the person in question had not chosen to purchase ankle socks.

Scene 2 – Worst Case Scenario

Several months ago I was waiting for my prescription to be filled and as I was hovering around the counter, I could not help but overhear the pharmacist talking on the phone. Obviously I have no real context for what I was hearing and the party on the other end could have been anyone from a college roommate to a current patient, but it certainly was not reassuring to hear as someone who was about to ingest what he handed me.

While staring at the computer screen, I heard him calmly inform the caller that, “to be honest, worst case scenario is that we mix up the pills and he dies.” This was apparently found to be satisfactory by the other party because the conversation ended shortly thereafter with no visible agitation on the part of the pharmacist.

First of all, isn’t death usually considered “worst case scenario?” I doubt there are a lot of pharmacists having the following conversation with their friends:

“I had a tough day. I accidentally gave someone my dog’s heartworm medication instead of their antibiotics.”

“Man, I’m sorry. What happened?”

“Their face exploded and they fell into a chipper shredder just before their heart stopped.”

“Oh my God!”

“It could have been worse. At least they never developed a rash.”

Secondly, even it was simply a college friend and the pharmacist was downplaying the level of vigilance necessary to perform his job, it might be best to save such conversation for the break-room.

Scene 3- Things Are on the Move

If you have followed my blog for any length of time you know that I have an issue with people tossing 

garbage into my yard as they drive past. Most of the time the refuse consists of cigarette butts and fast food wrappers, but recently I discovered a singularly unique item amidst my struggling Bermuda: an unopened blister pack of name brand laxatives.

The question that immediately arises is, “Who is in such a hurry to evacuate their bowels that they are attempting to pop laxatives while operating a motor vehicle?” Perhaps they read the package, calculated the exact moment the pills would take effect, and synchronized this with their expected arrival time. While there is something to be said for such digestive efficiency, it can be dangerous to cut that too close in case you run into unexpected traffic or a malfunctioning red-light.

I suppose I should take some comfort in the fact that the laxatives were not of the suppository nature, but I feel that today’s motorists are distracted enough without attempting to pry a tiny pill from a blister pack at 45 MPH. On the plus side, if someone were to lose control of the vehicle at 45 MPH the laxatives might no longer be necessary.