House of the Fallen Needle

So this morning, I unpack the delivered goods. Holy shit. Needles everywhere in a variety of shapes and colors and sizes that all spell death to me. Even one of those handy dandy biohazard red canisters to deposit said needles. I suppose to avoid re-use by junkies? Maybe I could sell them on e-bay…hmm. There are boxes and boxes of brightly packaged drugs with mystical sounding semi-feminine sounding names. I can’t help but try to picture the advertising exectutives sitting around their polished wooden tables
"It has to sound feminine"
"and organic"
"perky,"
"But not too perky."
Thus, the yellow and mauve packaging.
But we all see right through this nonsense now don't we? This whole industry is a scare scam and it is mighty effective. You don't get pregnant after paying attention for the first time in your life to your cycle and then wham! they smack you with what is wrong with you. I am sure that based on their testing, there is something wrong with everyone. It's like the metal detectors at our school, they will ring if you wrap your lunch in tin foil. Yet, I'm their sucker, victim #462 or whatever my medical file number is. I can't help myself. I want mr. poopie pants. or ms. poopie pants, I don't care.
If this place starts to smell like a hospital too, I'm outtie.