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Sanduny Spa and Pharmacy

January 29, 2015 Leave a comment Go to comments
By Eric "Desiree" Gelsinger

By Eric “Desiree” Gelsinger

The following is a paid advertisement.

There she was, ten feet tall above me, presiding over an enchanted window. Yea, from that day forward I lived in thrall to my local pharmacist’s charms.

She appeared and disappeared. She was a goddess. Or, was she something else? I remember the hammering of my heart as I stretched to hand her a script for my warts. She was so much more mysterious than my school nurse, so much more dangerous.

I had graduated.

My early education took place in the front of the store, where I was brutalized by wonders and joy. Candy, and balloons on sticks. Trying to fit the overfull balloon on the overlong stick into the station wagon, one would pop, the other would poke you in the eye, and you’d look down to find your palms ravaged by splinters. As for the candies, you couldn’t smash them apart with a heavy scotch tape dispenser, and forget about getting your mouth around that massive wad. My classmates dislocated jaws, broke teeth, or suffocated.

But I survived to walk deeper through the store. Beneath a burned-out tube of light I wandered between the haphazard racks of toys for poor/dumb kids, and the beach toys in the dead of winter.

Sanduny Spa and Pharmacy (photo by John Barlow)

Sanduny Spa and Pharmacy (photo by John Barlow)

The seasons changed, I grew older. I trespassed into The Periodicals. How many hours did I spend on rubber legs, paging through those magazines under fluorescent lights that seemed to leave me helplessly exposed? Each session would last until my queasy feeling gave way to confusion, bodily weakness, and an obscure feeling of injustice that even today constitutes the foundation of my morality.

At last I came of age, and now there I was: the very back of the store. I was afraid my sneakers would squeak, and held my breath as I approached, but I made it. I stood before the tabernacle of adulthood, the pharmacy counter. And there she was . . . .

In the months and years to follow, the sexpot pharmacist reigned over my fantasies, a drug-dispensing despot. She’d take me for a “consultation” and lay me down. One by one she’d place orange-flavored aspirin on my tongue until I couldn’t feel my “sprained wrist,” or anything but a sweet torment I didn’t know by name . Then she’d walk her fingers down her stockinged leg, and from her perfumed shoe insert produce my eczema crème. Her gaze trained upon my face, she’d crush the sweet metallic tube until every last ounce was surrendered like a charcoal snake to her milking fist.

And at last, the expert application. All over again, yet for the first time, I was faced with the problem of stuffing an over-inflated balloon and unmanageable stick into a confined space

What was she thinking during all this? It was impossible to say. She was so professional, so in control. I, needless to say, was not. I’d open my mouth to speak but she put a finger to my lips – a finger that glistened within a mitten of hydrocortisone crème which webbed her ministering digits with gunky clumps.

When I came to, it hit me. Just what Lankville needed. Yes, some say Lankville has it all, what with our Sanduny Spa and other things. But only now does Lankville truly have it all. Introducing THE SANDUNY SPA & PHARMACY featuring Lanvkille’s own TOPLESS PHARMACISTS! One hundred percent zero top on (make that, not on!) every pharmacist supplying you with fungal crèmes, rosacea treatments, scabies cures, foot-odor palliatives, obesity pills, impotence remedies, and all the rest of your pharmacy needs.

So come on down to the Sanduny Spa & Pharmacy. Tell them Desiree sent you. She always does.

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