The ad had a part where a man said that Zeebrium had given him his life back and a woman said no, Zeebrium had given their life back, and then the two of them squeezed hands. Then, without actually saying what it treated, the ad started into the traditional litany of side effects that included, but was not limited to, a runny nose. I found the list wonderfully obtuse and erotically disquieting, and then the voice on the television added, “Other side effects include feeling that these side effects are wonderfully obtuse and erotically disquieting.”
I couldn’t remember taking this medication at all. The ad continued and I heard, “People who take Zeebrium will find the notion of being on Zeebrium nearly inconceivable.”
I finally noticed the shoddy pyramid of empty Zeebrium boxes littering the floor around the couch, as the ad continued. “Some Zeebrium users will find it impossible to take the prescribed dosage, instead choosing to open the bottle and shake its entire contents into their mouths.”
I rolled off the couch, wiped some small, triangular blue pills from my chin, and stumbled across the room.
“Zeebrium users will sometimes forget close family members and lovers,” the commercial informed me as I pulled down a photo from the mantle above the fireplace. I didn’t recognize the woman in the photo at all. I stared at her face, trying to remember our connection as the ad continued, “People who take Zeebrium are also prone to home invasions.”
I looked back at television. It showed a little girl dancing across a green meadow holding a yellow balloon, as the disclaimer continued, “On occasion, when taking Zeebrium, people will find themselves coming into a state of full consciousness in a dark room filled with strangers. It’s important to not tell these strangers that you have taken Zeebrium. This might be difficult as another Zeebrium side effect is the inability to stop talking about Zeebrium. What you say on Zeebrium can be used against you in a court of law, particularly in regard to Zeebrium-fueled home invasions.”
I walked into the kitchen to grab some pants and returned to the living room, just in time to hear, “Zeebrium users will have the inability to tell the difference between trousers and knives. Do not attempt to wear trousers that have been in the butcher’s block in the kitchen.”
After bandaging my ankles and putting on a pair of shorts, I decided it was best to exit a house filled with small porcelain figures I didn’t remember collecting. As I was leaving I could still hear the commercial.
“Ask your doctor if Zeebrium is right for you,” it said. “Also, ask them if they actually prescribed it to you or it's just something that happens everytime you mix cough suppressants with cough expectorants.”