I swear, Officer, it's not mine!

Mrs. Gerbil and I went to Kohl's yesterday, in hot pursuit of random items of clothing and accessories. I find Kohl's to be rather hit-or-miss. It's almost always a miss when I'm in search of pants, as they don't carry small enough sizes. (Go ahead, hate me now.) But yesterday, when I was not in need of pants, it was a hit. For just under $35 we acquired three shirts, two pairs of socks, and three pairs of earrings. Pretty darn good, if you ask me.

The cashier handed me a very familiar-looking pen with which to sign the charge slip.

"Hey," I said, "I thought that looked an awful lot like a Seroquel pen!"

The cashier replied, a little too quickly, "Oh, that's not mine. Someone must have left it here. I don't know where it came from."

I guess the stigma of mental illness extends even to abandoned pharmaceutical swag.