Fluffybutt Prose Poems: Meds
#6 of Fluffybutt Prose Poems
Our local telegram admin.
Look in any bottle of your medical inventory. Do you see a rolaid or an aspiring staring back? No, you see a vulpine witch doctor peddling whatever psychosis will free you from your social obligations. Meds deals in meds from a secluded hut on an uncharted island. His clients are those eager to explore the world through the eyes of our neurotic population. Rumors abound surrounding this mystifying fox, mainly that he's struck a bargain with the legendary tooth furry, and that her microbial warthogs patrol his teeth on a nightly basis, devouring overlooked sardine bits and grapefruit pulp that didn't come out in the floss.