Day 3 of the rest of my life. And the rest of yours. I’m digging these prompts, I hope you are too.

{#240 You are taking medicine that you’ve been required to take for a year now. You notice that the label seems strange though, you peel it back to find something curious.}

6:00 a.m. A struggle. One eye open to mash the big silver button.

Sleep.

6:13 a.m.

Did you know you could set your snooze to more than nine minutes? You do now.

Although I could probably use at least another hour of REM, the team could use me. I rise, and is my custom, head for the medicine cabinet.

I should really invest in one of the those pill-a-day containers, because halfway through my first cup of coffee I’ll be wondering if I already took it. But of course I did. I do it first thing every day so I know I did.

My eyes are adjusting as I try to focus on my face in the mirror. Law, another zit. How come when you hit nineteen they don’t just up and disappear? Here I am, nearly twice that, and they’re still popping up unwanted on my chin. Or on my cheek. On the inside of the my nose. Those little bastards HURT.

I shake out my allergy pill, my vitamin, and my script. It’s a small thing, innocuous and round, I hardly give it a second glance or thought. I was put on them nearly a year ago for depression. Depression! Me! Explain that. My JOB is to go around, cheering people up, cheering people on. I’m a lifelong cheerleader…on antidepressants. Tell me what sense that makes. Furthermore, they’re a boring peach color. If I were designing antidepressants, they’d at least be a fun color! Like bright yellow. Or hot pink. And they’d have glitter! Hel-lo???

Marketing still has a long way to go if you ask me.

I swallow the pills and am brushing my teeth when I spy the bottle. I normally like to have all my bottles centered and facing forward, but I’m trying to get a handle on my OCD and the things that don’t matter. I had placed the bottle back sideways. And the label was becoming loose. I didn’t even know there was more to read. I thought it was just the front part. But it seemed that there was a whole secret page behind that. Like the jumbo spices from Sam’s. Took me forever to realize how to peel back the corner so I could get my meat/ water/ taco seasoning ratio correct. I was just haphazardly guessing for awhile there.

And I read:

“This drug may cause drowsiness. If you experience light-headedness or chest pain, consult a doctor. Do not take if allergic to bees or camel hair. Take with a big slug of Patron Silver if you experience difficulty getting it down. If you become pregnant, double your dosage.”

Camel hair? Double the dosage? What in the Sam Hill was this crap? I read on.

“Best if taken at the light of day with a cupcake and lemonade. Follow up by spinning in a circle three times and then do one round of the hokey-pokey. This medicine may entice you to join the circus, but it’s better than having a tail.”

WHAT.

A TAIL?????

I mean, that does hold certain advantages. If I had a tail, and it was a good tail, like a possum’s, I could carry things with it when my hands were full. If it were like a fox tail, it would be really beautiful and I could whisk and twirl it along behind—

What was I saying?? A TAIL?!?!

This had to be a joke. My doctor was my friend, I was taking a placebo, she just wanted to have some fun. The pharmacist too, they must be in cahoots.

But, wait.

I remembered hurting my rear end last year when I was being catapulted into the air and swung back around between the two guys when they dropped me. It was so hot and I was slick with sweat.

I thought I’d hurt my tailbone.

It was too early to call my doctor’s office but I had her cell number. And this qualified as an emergency if I’d ever known one.

Pick up, pick up, pick UP, I chanted as I punched at my phone.

She answered on the third ring, yelling at her boys. She has three, plus a husband. I think I would never stop yelling, just to get ahead.

“Jennifer? It’s Stacie. I, uh, well, you know I don’t pay attention very well…”

The screaming faded. I imagined her walking into a closet and sinking to the floor, hiding behind tennis rackets and winter coats.

“When were you going to tell me I was growing a tail?” I blurted out.

“Oh, Stace, I’m so sorry. Most people do better if we don’t tell them. Did you get bored and read the label?”

“Yes, and I will admit, it is highly entertaining.”

She chuckled. “Believe it or not, it is USDA approved.”

“I knew I didn’t need an antidepressant! I thought y’all thought I was crazy.”

“You have to admit, it’s easier to convince someone they need cheering up than they’re growing a tail.”

I sat down with a thump at my kitchen table. “Are there a lot of us?” I whispered.

“You were my first. There’s one in Memphis.”

“….what AM I, though? Am I just a human who didn’t completely evolve, or am I part fox or what?”

Please be a fox, please be a fox, I prayed. I didn’t want an ugly tail. I mean, if you’re gonna have a tail, make it a good one, right?

Silence.

“We’re not sure. You know every time we send off your blood work it comes back abnormal with unknown cells.”

Yes, I did know that. And it used to bother me until a team of specialists were stumped and she finally just told me as long as I felt normal not to worry too much about it. And I hadn’t. Because I’m an optimist!!!

“I think I really am gonna need some of those antidepressants now. Tell me, are they sparkly???”

****I love these writing prompts. They let me be unequivocally weird and y’all can’t say that my brain is warped because the IDEA wasn’t mine, exactly. 😏