He'd never even heard of an outfit called "Spells 'R' Us," and, quite frankly, thought that had to be one of the stupidest names he'd come across in a long, long time.
"Great, I wanted to go and impress my high school classmates at the class reunion with my shiny, new Rolex," the middle-aged man grumbled. "Instead I can show off my nice, new pill case!"
In disgust he dropped the case back into the box, reflecting that it looked not all that different than the case his mom had been carrying last month at the family reunion. Wasn't she trying some sort of estrogen replacement therapy or something? Some sort of therapy to try to slow down the ravages of aging. Although he hadn't said so at the time (and, if he were smart, would never say out loud!), his mom should have started the therapy twenty or thirty years sooner.
"Better yet," he grumbled, only vaguely aware he was talking out loud. "Stop aging in your teens! Back when everything was still possible!'
Frowning at the box, the man debated whether or not he should just skip his high school reunion. After all, going to it would inevitably lead to him drinking too much, confessing that he had finally had to settle, due to a poor GPA and lack of money, for going to a nearby community college, where he had met a girl, whom he got pregnant, married, and later divorced. Of course, the divorce had come AFTER he'd given up on his dreams and took a quick degree in accounting, and taken the first job to come along. A CPA in a regional corn cannery. Just what every boy dreams of!
Then, their son had come down with one of those diseases which is supposed to be extinct in the U.S.-- Scarlet Fever, and died before the doctors figured out what was going on. Sure, suing them got a pile of money-- for the lawyers. The same thing happened with the divorce. Neither he nor Linda had any money these days. Weirdly, their relationship was now better than it had ever been when they were married.
Giving the box a halfhearted slap, a piece of paper emerged from the packing peanuts. An instruction sheet.
Picking it up, he read:
"Take one pill every evening before bed until the pills are gone, and the change(s) you think you want will occur. If nothing happens, please call the 800 number on the bottom of the pill case for a full refund. If you have any questions, you may also call the 800 number. If you are pleased with the results, please refer your friends and try our other products. Local rules and regulations may apply."
Huh. Well, that really didn't tell him what the stuff was supposed to do. Of course, that bit about the "changes you want" occurring sounded promising.