Walgreens and Migrant Beings

Don't get me wrong; I love old, smelly, degenerates. I love seeing them frolic and play shoeless and worm-footed in green fields and golden sands. I love their joyous, toothless grins upon tasting a morsel of uncontaminated meat for the first time in three years. But it seems that every time I go to Walgreens, I'm either assaulted by a god damn heckler or made uneasy by the presence of one.

It began a long time ago. I had gone to a local Walgreens for something or other—probably pencils and KY jelly—and upon coming out, discovered there was a migrant person near my vehicle. (I prefer the term "migrant person" to "homeless fuck." It sounds much friendlier, don't you think?) Trying to pay no mind, I was about to drive away when the thing came up to my door and asked if I wanted my windows washed. Mind you, the guy's hands (he didn't have a rag) were as brown and soiled as F. Scott Fitzgerald's tighty-whities. While conjuring up as polite a response as possible, so as not to aggravate the potential killer, I was surreptitiously opening my trusty Swiss utility knife under the dashboard. Luckily the thing walked away, but it was a frightening situation, believe me.

A few weeks later, I again found the need to go to Walgreens (this time for a bag of Snickers bars, some candles, and a drain plug, I think). Recalling my experience the last time, I decided to visit another Walgreens location, one of which is always no more than a block away from the first. Seeing no filthy creatures around, I inched my way out of the car and started to dash toward the door when—

This guy carrying a decrepit portfolio stopped me and asked if I could help a starving artist. God dammit. I'm a starving fartist myself; I don't have money to be throwing at other crackpots. He was still there when I left the store, harassing other people.

Just yesterday I went to yet another Walgreens and when I came out of the store, lo and be-fuckin'-hold, there was a shabby-looking guy that just appeared out of nowhere, standing on the sidewalk and looking intently at something in his hands. He didn't harass me, but I maced him anyway.

What is it that brings these malodorous, soulless harpies out from the plywood-work? Perhaps it's the Walgreens EasySaver™ catalog. Perhaps because it's The Pharmacy America Trusts®. I don't know. But I do know that next time, I'm going to CVS. Although I hear the religious zealots rule those parking lots....