Every day at work I bring these really big white vitamin C’s that have to be swallowed, not chewed. Vitamin C’s, as you know, don’t need a label or embossed code on each individual pill, so they are an ultimately smooth, slightly chalky tabula rasa waiting for my artist’s touch. Using the harmless graphite from my mechanical pencil, I write things on these pills and leave them out on my desk. As soon as Janice or Carol, or Shirley notices them, I say, “Oh, yeah, it’s time,” and take one out quickly. The pills have labels like “ANTI-VEMON,” “POISON!” or “BULL TESTOSTERONE.” Sometimes I’ll go “Jetsons” and have one say “CHEF SALAD,” one say “ROAST BEEF,” and one say “PECAN PIE.” I take all three and act satisfied. I’m still waiting, though, for co-workers to ask me about my special program.