What in Cher’s name is a Tuesday 200?
“Today is a Wonderful Day”
Stamped into the white plastic tray that holds a 4×8 grid of pill cases, each with AM and PM on the front, and the numbers 1-31 etched on the top, plus a smiley face. Pale red, orange, yellow, lime green, something resembling teal, baby blue and Barney purple, each stuffed with a spectrum of supplements various professionals have prescribed to treat the myriad of maladies no one thought he’d live long enough to get.
“Happy + Healthy”, it says next to the sampler-worthy motto.
If he were healthy, would he need all these pills? Sure, some of them make him happy (happier), and others keep him heathy (healthier).
He’s reordering the containers to start counting down his return to Brighton, where the next round of refills await him.
“Oh sweetie,” Gran says, sneaking Jack into her joe. “Why don’t you move back?”
“Well, barring the fascism, I’d never be able to afford these,” motioning to the thousands of dollars of monthly meds which he pays a pittance for, because you know … that satanic socialism.
“I dunno,” she tuts. “I mean, if you're happy there, fine. But honestly dear, why must y’all make everything rainbow colored?”