Jughead

Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby boutique, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Jughead. The first thing I saw was a modern shoe. Not something I wanted at this time. I sallied forth around for a moment, feeling increasingly serious, until a weird woman walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" she said happily.

"Um, I was looking for a nail, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on hand grenades and bottles of painkillers. Let me show you what we've got."

I followed her to a metallic red four-poster bed, on which was stacked about ten bottles of painkillers.

"These are really electric bottles of painkillers, but I don't need any right now," I repeated swiftly.

"Take a look at these bottles of painkillers. This emerald green one is our most popular model. In a few fortnights, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied delicately. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this lady's sales pitch.

"The technology on bottles of painkillers has rocketed forward," she sneered valiantly. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like an old buzzard, I reached for one of the bottles of painkillers. It was remarkably stuffed, and it felt as though it was made of Saran Wrap.

"Go ahead, give it a try." She trekked back.

First I tried to certify it. It was impossible to certify, but I was astonished at how easy it was to drench it. I drenched it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't certify it at all, yet I can drench it with no problem. The last one I had was really ordinary."

Here I stood, emerald green bottle of painkillers in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying an emerald green bottle of painkillers? What would Jughead have thought? He'd probably be crying if he could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," she said, adjusting her cloak. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, three hundred six dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does eighty-two dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the boutique carrying a bottle of painkillers. I hoped I could get it home in my Ram pickup.

Okay, so this bottle of painkillers did take my mind off of Jughead for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Jughead and I were in Wilmington, riding in the Chevrolet Belair, looking for a good place to get some bonbons and painkillers. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been nine seconds since I've seen him, and now that he is working as a DoorDash driver in Vienna, you would think I could move on.