Life of Spike Murdoch

Chapter 12 - Desperate Needs

In the late afternoon, Spike and Remmy were hanging out at a local sandwich shop. Spike had the day off from work, having a replacement fill his place. Remmy, still going through a hard time with his mother in the hospital and his dad stuck in jail for who knows how long, stuck together with Spike for the time being, since he didn't want to be home alone and just needed a friend to spend time with to distract himself from his newfound depression. He had never been this sad before, and didn't know how to deal with it. He knows Spike has been through multiple stages of depression, but he's gotten used to it over the course of his lifetime, even through the recent events of literally shooting a man to near death.

Spike brought Remmy's sandwich to him with a large paper bag filled with fries and extra mayonnaise like he wanted. Spike couldn't help but cringe at the idea of dipping potato fries into a weird substance like mayo.
"Ugh.", sighed Spike. "I still don't know how you can like those types of combinations. First pickles with chocolate, then strawberries with peanut butter, and now it's french fries with mayonnaise. You're not pregnant, are you?"
"Shut up, I'm stress eating.", Remmy remarked.
"Sorry, man. Look, I know how hard you're taking this, but you can't just keep piling on food down your throat. This isn't a good coping mechanism. Plus, you're getting a bit of a double chin there."
"I know, I know. I've just been really fucking hungry all of a sudden."
"Just chill out on the carbs, man. I told you to get a salad like I did. It's better for your health."
Remmy stood up in a quick motion. "Then we did we come to a goddamn SANDWICH shop when all you wanted is a FUCKING sal— AAGH!!"
Remmy jolted his body up in an agonizing pain. He forgot about his leg injury he sustained from the car accident. It was still in a leg cast and needed his crutches to move around. He tumbled back to his seat while Spike shook his head, helping him readjust his friend back in his seat. Some of the customers around the establishment stared at the manic moment Remmy just made, but quickly turned back when Remmy gave them a displeased look.
"Remmy, calm the hell down.", Spike instructed.
"Dude, I can't stay calm under these circumstances— URK! God, how long does it take for someone's leg to be fixed??"
"A couple of weeks, at best. That's why I want you to be more careful of how you move around in a fit of anger like you just did. Just relax and eat. I need to go pick up some meds at the pharmacy after we're done."
"Wait, you take medication? For what?"
"Um. For my depression? You didn't know that? I was diagnosed with it since I was sixteen."
"I've never seen you take pills before. Thought you were one of those people that didn't believe in medicine, like a hippie?"
Spike laughs. "Who the hell told you that ridiculous story?"
Remmy lifted up his finger. "Hey, I read internet forums."
"Oh, my god, Rem, that is a total lie, and you know it."
"Still, though! When did you start taking them?"
"My therapist told me to start taking them a couple weeks ago. And yes, I was skeptical about taking medication at first, but it actually helped me think more clearly and I don't feel as sad and depressed anymore."
"Really? It works just like that? Well... do you mind if I—"
"No, Rem."
"What?? I didn't even finish my question."
"I already know what you're gonna ask me. No, you can't have a pill. Not even half a pill."
"Aw, c'mooon, man!"
"No. And dude, you're not even diagnosed with depression."
Remmy puts on a usual pouty expression. "But I'm saaaaad."
"Okay, when you do that to your mom, it works. With me, I feel nothing."
"Damn, you're cold."
"And you're an asshat."
"Ugh, whatever, man. Let's just go get your stupid drugs so you can continue to feel all happy-go-lucky while I stay miserable."
"Jeez, you're cranky when you're upset."