Eye, caramba.

It isn't often that someone can out-crazy me. Even less likely that anyone can make me stutter. Total solar eclipses probably happen with greater frequency.

But the other day, I was running errands, and stopped off at the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. There was one person in front of me, and the five-minute wait was enough to send my kid into a bored fit of silliness. She climbed into a chair with a blood pressure cuff and pretended she was blasting off into space. Quite loudly. I pretended I didn't know her.

When I got up to the counter, the smiling pharmacist had eyes that went in different directions.

Oh,... ahh.... ok. I picked an eye and went with it.

Last name? Gave it to him.

Sign here - sure.

Any questions? No.

Well, if you do have questions, please call.... and he rattled off a number while trying to contain a giggle. I raised an eyebrow.

Has your doctor given you a sample of Clarinex? Uhh - yes? (How the hell did he know that?) Great!

I reach into my purse to pull out some cash, and am staring at a business card with a phone number printed in giant numbers across it... that's weird, it's the same number... he... just... rattled off...

I push aside a sample box of Clarinex I got at the doctor's office this morning to grab my wallet and my entire body froze -- I was looking at the wrong eye. I WAS LOOKING AT THE WRONG EYE!

HE'S GOT A GLASS FRIKKIN' EYE!

He knew I was trying to politely focus on his left eye to maintain eye contact instead of whipping my head back and forth from eye to eye, confusedly trying to figure out where the hell he's looking like I'm following the flight path of a drunken bumblebee, and I picked the wrong eye. So while I'm staring into a cold glass orb, he's peering down into my purse with his good eye and reading off the contents to fuck with me. At this point, he's just trying so hard not to burst out laughing.

He knows I know.

From behind me I hear "Ooh! Blah blah blah blah blaaaaah, blah blah blah blah blah". My child, who can't read, is sitting in the row of chairs behind me holding an upside-down Readers' Digest, and saying "blah blah" with a crazy excitedness.

Marty Feldman asks, "Is that your daughter?"

I turn back with a "Never seen her before in my life", and rip the bag out of his hand as he's still surpressing his giggles.

He calls out a "Have a nice day!" and it really takes all my gentility and ladylike reserve not to wing my prescription bottles at his forehead.

My kid sits contentedly as I turn to leave. I yell "Goodbye, rotten kid" as she comes running, and from behind the counter I hear the pharmacist yell back "Goodbye, lady!".

I - ... you... w-w-w-wha... errgh.

You... fa. Mmph.

B-b-b.... dammit.

I am currently planning my next visit.