Why drugs are bad when traveling

We found a mouse turd in the ointment… a bump in the campsite… (Those are the only cliches I can screw up for now…) Since hubs and I have a terrible drug addiction, it’s imperative we get out monthly prescriptions or we’ll just fall over dead.
Just like that.
Since Walmart is like an infestation or zits popping up all across the face of America, we figured they’d be the best pharmacy to use.
Oh, how wrong we were.
Turns out there’s a chink in the wire of Wally World, they’re not as connected as you’d think. 

Off we trot to go get our supplies and… “What do you mean you can’t fork over the goods? I need my drugs, man! My drugs!”
We had a few days left but things were getting too close for comfort. Did we really come this far just to turn around and go back home?

Come Monday, withdraws were setting in: the shakes, explosive crying, uncontrollable rage… (Yes, I said that the right way around) We were even scraping out the dust from our pill bottles.
Hubs contacted our insurance company where we met a superhero by the name of Lillian. She got all up in Walmart’s face like, “Oh, hell no!” After she was finished, she contacted us to say we could go get our stuff. Yay! 

When we got back to Walmart, fully expecting the smug faces, gloating out our suffering, the staff were completely distraught from hurricane Lillian’s destruction.
The pharmacist came out looking like a pretzel, his head fully inserted up his arse and mumbled his apologies before waddling back to wherever he came from.
We snatched that bag out from their hands so fast and dashed out there like two people who were desperate for drugs.

I’d like to say that was the one and only time something like this happened, but where’s the fun in that? Unfortunately, this was just the first of many fun and exciting encounters with Walmart pharmacy, but thanks to Super Lillian, we always got our stuff 😀 

A reconstruction of us later that day after we got our fix.