Better Living Through Chemistry

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You can't help everyone,

but everyone can help someone.

Hey, honey?

- You want to party?

- Doug, it's a weekday.

But if you asked him,

Doug Varney would tell you sayings like

these were fortune cookie horseshit.

Ethan?

Time to get up! Hey, Ethan?

Hey, pal.

Jesus, God.

Jesus, God.

I appreciate his ingenuity,

but, you know, maybe we shouldn't

keep cookies in the house any more.

It's important for him to

know that when he behaves,

the treats that we

promise him are real.

If we take the cookies out of the house,

then those promises become empty.

- Okay, but he's not a dog.

- Excuse me.

He's a 12-year-old boy.

You know... Did you know that he

covered his windows in black paint?

- Did you know that?

- Yes. He asked me before he did it.

Do you think that it's okay for

him to live in a black box?

I think we need to

remain supportive,

even if his, um, interests are

different than ours, Doug.

You know, taking so many vitamins

all at once cancels out the impact.

Dad disagrees.

He's not a doctor.

Neither are you, sweetie.

When I'm in between

jobs, I like to get away

from the hustle and

bustle of Tinseltown,

which is why I've kept

a place in Woodbury.

Once you get past the candle

makers and fudge shops,

it's truly a beautiful

place to live,

the kind of place where things

don't change all that much.

Which makes today so special.

Doug had done his time

at Bishop's Pharmacy,

working under his father-in-law

and learning the ins and outs

of running a small business.

And after years of delay,

Walter Bishop was finally retiring

and the pharmacy was changing hands.

Hey!

So long, Bishop's. Hello, Varney's.

Um...

What's... Okay.

- I think there's been a mistake or...

- No mistake.

I just thought when we agreed to buy the

business from you, that, you know, we...

- All right.

- ...could change it.

- Let's put this to rest right now.

- Okay.

People know Bishop's.

Woodbury has trusted that

name for a long, long time.

They know they can count on our

service to always be right,

accurate, trustworthy.

What? Change the name to

Varney's or something?

Varney's?

Doug had gotten very good at

hiding disappointment over the years,

but that doesn't mean

this didn't hurt.

The pharmacy might be officially

his, but nothing else was changing.

But despite what you might think,

Doug found great comfort

in being a pharmacist.

Studiously counting medication,

filling prescriptions,

he was good at what he did.

I saw it every time I came in.

But I could also see that Doug

Varney wanted something more,

and while he could probably

never put it into words,

maybe it had to do with being a man

who provided solutions for

everybody but himself.

Consult!

Consult! He's got...

I heard you the first two times.

Thank you, Janet.

As the one pharmacist

in a small town,

Doug knew a little bit

about a lot of people,

but he was always

professional, never judged,

and his customers always listened to

him, customers like Donald Zucker.

Donald had battled a weight

problem his whole life.

Doug gave him Lipitor as well

as some dietary advice,

but then Donald had never

been a very good listener.

Amoxicillin, Zoloft,

Metformin, Setrol.

Doug was there with

whatever they needed.

Kaye Tashman was a loving mother,

but because sometimes

love just isn't enough,

Doug was there with the Xanax.

And Tegretol for Susan D'francesco,

because she was bipolar.

For Brian Malloy, Chantix to help

beat his nicotine addiction.

However, since side effects included

severe constipation, well...

And for poor Kathleen

Bergman, Lysodren,

because sometimes

cancer comes back.

And for mailman Arnold

Morello, Valtrex,

to treat his freshly acquired

case of genital herpes,

an affliction he most certainly

did not catch from his wife.

It's going to be okay.

It's just... It's all very complicated. I

mean, I'd never been to Atlantic City before.

Just be diligent about

the medication.

You'll feel better before

you know it, okay?

- All right.

- Hang in there.

Nice shorts, man. Super shorts.

What the hell is that guy on, huh?

- That's confidential.

- No, I know what it is.

Anti-depressants, I bet, right?

Postal worker, the end of his

rope, seconds away from this.

Look at all blood!

Okay.

But then, look, he saves

one for himself.

Just do me a favour.

Just don't wander off.

I got a new batch of deliveries

coming in for you soon.

I'm so happy you brought this up,

'cause I would have totally

forgot and that's my fault.

- I know I said I could work till late tonight...

- Yeah.

but my man Rio, he scored

tickets to Widespread tonight.

Get outta here. I know, it's insane.

So I gotta jet out way early.

Okay.

Uh...

But you promise to get all the

deliveries done before you go, right?

- Stop it. You have my word.

- Okay.

Hi, honey! Yeah, I'm gonna be late.

Yeah. Noah. It's fine.

Just grab dinner without me.

I'll get dinner somewhere. Yeah.

Something healthy.

I'll see you later, okay? Bye.

Roberts, Roberts, Roberts, Roberts.

Junkies.

I hate rich people.

Hello!

Yes?

Uh...

You must be...

You must be Mrs Roberts?

Would you step inside?

It's a little chilly out here.

Okay.

Uh...

Nice place.

Like I said, it's a little chilly.

I'll get you sorted out

and I'll be on my way.

You probably think I'm

some kind of junkie, huh?

Well, it's not my business

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