The pain killer


fter being kicked out of heaven, Adam discovered that one of the best steps forward in his new habitat would be a pill to take care of his newly gained pains.  He was not sure what kind of pain killing mechanism his ache would require, if film-coated tablets, encapsulated, or some variant injection type was needed.

Therefore, very confused, Adam started plowing the ground and procreating, while Eve started delivering babies without anesthesia.

Oral analgesics were introduced to human life centuries later, when Eve already had completed her fertile cycles, a flood had swept through, and a new civilization blossomed off the first pains of the first people.

Adam is Larry, or Billy, or Joe today and he lives close to you, in some suburb in your century, your year, somewhere in your vicinity.

Unfortunately, he has a headache now.  Fortunately, the painkiller was invented already.  The new Adam  up in bed with all the pain hanging onto his head, mumbled something  and pulled himself out of his cradle, merged to a drawer where he knew medicine and prescriptions filled tubes and containers of white powders, liquids and pills were stored

His direction and purpose became bamboozled now since his eyes brushed over the catholic calendar up on the wall.  He was bound for the drawer but now he started thinking.  According to the Catholic dogma, painkiller pills are not forbidden in the days of lent, right?  Since it is not meat, cheese, milk, or eggs why should they be prohibited?  Man is allowed to be pain free throughout the Passion Week, right?  It is a tacit agreement between God and man containing tasks and duties for both parties: God has to watch over man (which he does) and man has to multiply and fill the earth (which he does, but not always).

Our modern day Adam cannot procreate.  The headache and hair splitting pain has eliminated any breeding oriented activities.  This situation started about two months ago.

He looked at his wife lying asleep in bed, surely consumed by dreams of multiplication.  Turned the light switch on staring back with envy at the bed he had just abandoned for a pill.  With a sweaty hand groping the handle, he opened the drawer and fumbled through boxes and bottles until he found the potential cure for his headache.  For a while, way at the beginning of his pain trip, he thought about jumping from the balcony as a means of getting rid of his pain but, for reasons known only to him, concluded a pill would work better.

Last time he took an analgesic, he got a stomachache on top of the pain in his head.  He should protect his stomach before taking a pill.

Fresh dilemma now.  Headache or stomachache?

 Since the drawer was only a step sideways from his wife’s purse, and his pain seemed to urge him to violate the privacy of others, with two fingers he quietly opened the bag.  Amongst the many objects inside: nail polish, two lipsticks , a screwdriver, half a sandwich, an invitation to the theater, two hair clips, a tube of glue, the keys to the cellar, and a phone number written thick, with pen , on the back of a coupon for a cyber cafe .

He felt his head ready to explode.  Looked at his wife sleeping then at the things in her purse.  For a few moments, his eyes moved from the purse back to her.  The phone number was staring back at him.

 In the last couple of days, he noticed a slight cold from her, almost like a practiced nonchalance of a given kind.

Despite the late hour, he grabbed the phone, dialed the number written on the back of the coupon and waited a couple of seconds only to hear a voice on the other end, a male voice.

“Who s this?”  He managed to say in the receiver.

“I’m a pharmacist!” the male voice answered from the other end.

Maybe his wife was sick but did not want to burden him with more worries and said nothing.

“Can, you recommend some gastric buffer for a pain pill? “

“Do you know what time it is? “  The grumpy male voice responded.

“Yes, but I’ve been in pain of hours.  Can you recommend a natural gastric buffer?  I am the husband ... my wife.  I think you know her. 

“Try with milk!” The man at the other end blurted out and quickly after that, the busy signal was heard, like a painful throb through his temples.

He put back the phone number in her purse.  Maybe his wife will need some medical advice when in pain he reasoned in his mind.  Currently there was nothing hurting her, to his knowledge.

 He heard a guttural voice.  His wife was awake now and noticed her purse was moved two inches to the left from where she left it.

“Have you been in my purse?  Why did you mess around in my purse? 

“My head hurt and I wanted something to protect my stomach before I took a pain killer! “

“And what did you find?  I have nothing for your stomach!”  The woman screamed hysterically.

“I found that milk is a good buffer.  Thank God for the pharmacist. 

He stood next to the refrigerator holding the carton of milk and could not help notice the trickle of water dripping on the floor.  For the head pain, it has, good to know that milk is a stomach buffer before you take painkillers.

 But the thread of water under the refrigerator?

Why couldn’t she have the number for an electrician in her purse instead?

That way she could have demonstrated she cared  about the house, family and  domestic problems like the loss of electricity by a faulty refrigerator   She could have shown she cared for him and his wallet and not only her pain.  -

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Short Story
writing atlantis
Sometimes it feels good not having to explain
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