Pound Land

Hreeewwwweeeugh

I made a noise like Chewbacca stubbing his toe as I looked at the sorry mess that was my reflection, in the bathroom mirror.

Normally, at this point in the morning after my shower, I would take a moment to admire myself. Perhaps give myself a compliment or two. You handsome blokey bastard was always a favourite one.

Not today though.

My reflection stared back, eyes puffy, red-rimmed and raw looking, underneath them my nose dribbled and ran like a small stream.

Need medicine.

I grunted out loud to no-one in particular.

I staggered out of the bathroom and headed downstairs, where the love of my life greeted me tenderly.

Fuck. You look AWFUL!??

She recoiled slightly as if scared I might come over for a kiss.

Aye, thank bawjaws. I need antihistamines, stat.

Oh. We don't have any.

She grimaced apologetically.

Bollocks.

I turned and headed for the door making an odd humphling sound as I tried to keep bodily fluids from falling out of my face.

Twenty minutes of snottery, itchy-eyed travel later, I found myself in Superdrug staring at the antihistamine shelf in disbelief.

£6.75!?! For a pack of antihistamines!?!

I did a quick @tarazkp calculation... That's like 20 steem!?! Bugger that. I stomped out. There was another shop that sold them nearby. They were bound to be much cheaper.

Moments later, I stood in Boots. Another drug emporium.

£6.74 !? What is this, some kind of conspiracy?!

One of my itchy eyes chose at that moment to burst with tepid rage like an overripe grape and dribble down my cheek.

I made a forlorn honking like a sunburnt seal on a sandy rock and staggered out of the shop.

I was desperate. Utterly desperate. I needed antihistamines to alleviate my hayfevery woes but not so desperate that I would accept a vigorous strumming on my chocolate banjo for it.

What to do? What to do?

Suddenly, inspiration struck.

Pound Land - where everything cost a mere pound. They sold medicines. Surely they couldn't be part of the conspiracy to over-charge me?

I set off, staggering once more in a half-blind and wet faced mess toward the fabled Pound Land.

I lurched through the doors and headed to the back where they kept the good stuff.

The place was chockablock with poor people jostling and grunting at one another in their neverending search for tawdry plastic things.

I elbowed my way past them.

I passed a man in a wheelchair. He only had one leg. He had a seven-pack of socks in his hand.

I couldn't help but marvel. A seven pack, for a pound. He only had one leg. That's like 14 socks. He had truly struck gold.

I just managed to refrain from congratulating him on his one-legged win.

A few paces beyond sock man, I found the medicine aisle.

Praise be!

I dropped to my knees and started digging through the piles of condoms and hair conditioner. Finally I found them. Generic no-brand antihistamines.

HA!

I fumbled the pack open and popped one out, swallowing it dry before hobbling to the counter to pay my dues.

Second later I was on the street.

It might have been the placebo effect but already I could feel myself recovering. My stagger becoming less pronounced. My eyes drying up.

I straightened up fully to my normal handsome-osity and put a pep in my walk like a sexy Keyser Söze.

God bless you modern medicine!

And God bless pound shops!