Eastern Medicine

This week I got sick; nothing fancy just a coughing and mucous ordeal. On Monday, the kindergartner's brilliant substitute had all the little muffins write me some fifty charming prescriptions. Here is one.


You get the picture. The pharmacist knows what to do. Come this morning, though, still hacking, I finally decided to stop ignoring the color of my snot and visit the doctor. He set me up with a prescription that they filled right at the clinic: nine little paper wads, each with the pictured cocktail of pills inside. If this doesn't sooth my throat, decongest my nasal cavities and prevent me from ever having cancer, I'm demanding my six bucks back.