Ida trembled, sniffed. Her depends were soaked.
“Where’s it at?” Josh demanded, knife pointed. “Where’s the drugs?”
His partner Tripps was busy pulling out her drawers, throwing keepsakes and pictures to the ground. Her poor Stanley was on the grown in pieces.
“In my medicine cabinet.”
He forced her into the bathroom, hands shaking. Josh was thin, gaunt even. Ida couldn’t find the strength to cry for him though, grandson or not.
“Which ones are they?”
She rummaged through her pill box, handing him and his friend about 20 white oval pills.
“What ya got?” Tripps sneered at them.
“These ain’t Lortab!” Josh accused.
Ida swallowed. He was right, but he wasn’t that clever. She glanced at the bottle of KCL and it’s bright red warning labels.
“I told you I don’t take those! These are new pills, I have to crush them cause they are too big to swallow.”
“Horse pills. Are they Norco?”
Ida pretended to think. “He said they were like Oxycotin. They work good.”
Josh pointed the knife. “You tell mom and you won’t even make it to that nursing home. You’ll join Gramps.”
Oh Stanley, Ida thought. They stole her pill crusher and left.
The next morning her daughter called to invite her to Josh’s funeral.
Ida cried a bit before she hung up and then called the pharmacist to replace her potassium pills.