I used to have this
roommate.
(I don't have him any
more.)
He filled up all the
shelf spaces
with bottles by the
score.
He had pills for every
ailment,
ointments, potions and
a large box of suppositories
(labeled, "Care, by
hand.")
All of them were
quackery -
nostrums of all kinds -
imaginary vitamins,
with effects just in
his mind.
For the only thing he
suffered from
in reality, I'm sure
was a chronic
hypochondria
that none of them could
cure.
