A fair -y tale

Setting: Small unnamed pharmacy off of highway 10 in South Eastern California. Mojave desert, arid, colorless mountains, blue sky, empty highway. A single black Jaguar speeds into view, tires shriek, and dust is cast in a cloud around the car as it veers sharply into the practically unoccupied parking lot. The only other car is a battered, rusted-out brick-colored Ford pick-up, used primarily for agricultural work in its previous incarnation. There is a collection of general dry goods and behind the yellowing linoleum counter there is a metal sign, hanging on an angle that states “we reserve the right to deny service to anyone for any reason” This is partially obscured by the stack of baby-formula cans, all in Spanish.

Characters:
Lucila – pharmacist and general manager of the small family-run business. Her father has recently died. She is 28, dark skinned, small-framed, with long hair and teased bangs. She wears a white lab coat. She has a degree from ABC College of Pharmacy.

Preston Wentworth III – perennial golfer and driver of Jaguar. He is 68, white-haired, red-faced, tall with a large frame, and large pot-belly. He is wearing a pink shirt and plaid pants, in cleated golf shoes.

The door swooshes open with great force rattling the single bell so that it almost falls off its perch on the glass door. Lucila looks up from her book and Preston’s shoes clack as he approaches the counter with purpose.

Preston: Miss, I need this prescription filled. (throws a neatly folded prescription, with card onto the counter) Here is my insurance card.

Lucila: Excuse me sir?

Preston: (speaking exaggeratedly slowly). Sin-your-ee-tah… I need this prescription filled now, I am terribly late for tee-off, so if you could make it snappy? (snaps his fingers and chuckles obscenely to himself)

Lucila: (in perfect English) Excuse me sir? But I can’t fill a prescription without knowing who you are. (she picks up the folded paper and reads the prescription). So it says that your doctor is from the Palm Springs Hospital… Why didn’t you fill your prescription there?

Preston: (a bit sheepishly) I, uh, was in a hurry to get going, and I thought that I would be fine… but… well, my sugar was very high and it really is an urgent matter, so if you could please hurry… (now with more demanding)

Lucila: Well, if I could fill this prescription for you, I would first have to have some ID and speak with your doctor, as his name is unfamiliar to me, I really have no way of knowing whether this is a valid prescription or a forgery, now do I?

Preston: (through clenched teeth) Now why would I make up a prescription for Insulin?

Lucila: Oh, well that’s not for me to know, there are lots of things you can do with Insulin and not all of them are licit, besides, I am very sorry sir, but I cannot fill this prescription for you.

Preston: What?!

Lucila: Yes, I am sorry sir, but I cannot fill this for you.

Preston: You’ve got to be f-ing kidding me! Why the hell not, do you not have Insulin in this goddam backwater town? There are no pharmacies for 100 miles, I checked with Onstar.

Lucila: No, we carry insulin, I just can’t give it to you.

Preston: Why in god’s name can’t you. It is your responsibility as a pharmacist. I need this medicine. I could die for chrissake!

Lucila: Well, sir, perhaps you should have thought about that before leaving town, or perhaps you should have thought about the damage that you were doing to your body all those years of over-eating and drinking, because by the smell of you, sir, you have a had a few drinks today. Is that why your sugar is high? Don’t you know how to take care of Type II Diabetes? I am sure your doctor advised against alcoholic beverages. Here, take a pamphlet on diabetes care and use it as a reference in the future. (she hands him several pamphlets from underneath the counter, he does not notice that they are all in Spanish)

Preston: (Shouting) BUT I NEED MEDICINE NOW! Is it my insurance, here (he grabs a wad of cash and throws it at her face, the bills in their perfect crispness, float harmlessly to the counter and the floor in front of his feet) I’ll pay full price, just give me a receipt… (grumbling) I’ll just get my insurance to reimburse me, fucking morons….

Lucila: I am very sorry sir, but I am unable to fill this prescription, cash or no cash.

Preston: What is wrong with you, you little insignificant piece of …?

Lucila: Sir, no need to be rude, let me ask you this question. Who did you vote for?

Preston: (Bristling with anger and pride at the same time) George W. Bush (puffs out his chest) But I don’t see how that is relevant.

Lucila: Is that your “ha gwar” parked in the lot?

Preston: My “Jag-you-ahr? Yes. So? What is the problem?!!

Lucila: Well, I am not legally required to tell you this, but because you asked, I will. In my religion, we are taught humility, we are taught generosity and love for our neighbors. Under legislation mandated by your president, as a pharmacist, I am permitted to deny service, even in life-threatening or time-sensitive cases, based on my conscience and religious beliefs. And so you see…

Preston: Wait just one second… That is supposed to be so those loose women don’t run around buying themselves those damn morning after pills… But I _need_ this medicine. Let me speak to the “real” pharmacist.

Lucila: I am sorry, but I am the only real pharmacist here, and no, there are no such stipulations in the law. It simply states that we may deny service based on moral opposition, and I am morally opposed to a man who has everything available to him, but cannot be charitable with those around him - who would practice a sport which requires massive amounts of water to be diverted from the Colorado, from people who really need that water to live. I am morally opposed to a person who shows no humility in his actions. I am absolutely morally opposed to a person who goes against doctor’s orders and who drinks alcohol!

And, you can thank your president for this, because I am also morally opposed to offering service to a person who would vote to support a war that sends an inordinate number of poor kids off to kill an inordinate number of disenfranchised civilians, just so that they can guzzle more gasoline. And so, I am unable to offer you the service that you require.

Preston: (eyes bugging) snorts…

Lucila: (dismissing him with the action of returning to her book). Good day sir. Didn’t you have a golf-match to get to?

Preston: (Turning purple with rage or perhaps going into a sugar-induced slump… turns slowly, in silent fury, gets to his car and falls, knees buckling in slow motion, to the dusty ground, with his hand still on the silver handle, the pamphlets on diabetes care fall in the dust underneath the tires of his Jaguar)


Fade to black.