Leather bomber jacket and cowboy boots was a good look back then. Not so much now though.
He signs his prescription with a flourish.
“People paid good money for that signature,” he says.
The pharmacist smiles weakly; every month the same.
Outside Janis hobbles alongside, tight pedal-pushers and towering grey bouffant, as they follow the music towards the park where they’ll tut, shake their heads and roll their eyes.
Maybe he’ll play a little air-guitar, a riff or two from way back… show them how it’s done.
Or maybe they’ll just go home and wait for Eddie to call them.
Not sure we’ve got either the age or geographic demographic amongst the Friday Fictioneers to get this one, and the nostalgia outweighs the musical content, I guess. But it is what it is – and Eddie is the late great Eddie Cochran. Thanks to Rochelle for all her work.