The Hippo Oath

It's shortly after opening on a Sunday morning. I'm working on a front computer preparing it for the day when I see two ladies walking my way. The look like they've been clubbing all night because their hair is messed up and they're in high heels and skirts. As they get to me, they part and a third lady steps up from between them. They were hiding her as they walked down the aisle... which was aisle eight, by the way, for you people that follow my blog and know that everything crazy happens on aisle eight.

The girl is deeply bruised on her face and has dried blood on her nose and mouth. She's been in a scuffle of some kind, or got so drunk or stoned she took a fall face first on a sink. She looks tired and worn out.

One of her friends says asks me what we have a Goofmart Pharmacy to "fix up" her friend. I said, "Your friend needs medical attention. We don't provide that here. There's an urgent care on the corner of the building. Better yet, just take her to the emergency room."

The other friend pipes up. "YOU won't HELP HER?!" she spits out at me. "Don't you have some Hippo oath or something?"

"She needs medical attention and we're not equipped or qualified to do that," I said. "And it looks like her eyes are dilated. She needs medical attention, now. She might have a concussion. If you'd like, I'll call 9-1-1."

"No," the first friend says. I turn around to do something else. A couple of minutes later I see them on the first aid aisle.

I'll brush up on my Hippo oath.