Paymore Pharmacy installed a free blood-pressure machine with one simple instruction:
PLEASE REMAIN STILL AND RELAX.
By lunchtime, Lucky Now had turned it into competitive sports.
It began when one resident finished a reading, looked at the pleasantly ordinary numbers and announced, “That’s probably the calmest anybody’s ever been in this town.”
Someone found a chalkboard.
Ten minutes later, it read:
CALMEST PERSON IN LUCKY NOW
The Mayor arrived carrying coffee and agreed to provide “official oversight.” Unfortunately, his first reading was higher than the reigning score.
“That machine didn’t account for civic responsibility,” he said.
“It also didn’t account for your coffee,” Glady replied.
The owners of Wing Dings entered together. One wore heavy earmuffs and attempted silent meditation. The other sat beside him holding a bag of wings and trying not to eat until after the test.
The smell of garlic made both of them considerably less peaceful.
Soon, the pharmacy waiting area resembled a relaxation clinic organized by people who had only heard relaxation described over the phone.
Residents arrived with eye masks, pillows, soothing music and one small white-noise machine that sounded suspiciously like a dishwasher full of spoons.
Joe offered decaf coffee to the competitors.
The Mayor took one sip.
“This tastes like someone removed the purpose.”
Nugs appeared briefly with a folding table and a sign:
PRE-TEST RELAXATION — $5
His service consisted of handing customers a card that read:
INHALE. HOLD. EXHALE. REPEAT.
“Is this medical advice?” someone asked.
“No,” said Nugs. “It’s THC-adjacent breathing.”
“What makes it THC-adjacent?”
“Ferns Flower Shop is three storefronts away.”
Fern called and ordered him back to work before he could introduce the premium breathing package.
The competition continued without him.
People began whispering in the aisles. Shopping carts were pushed in complete silence. Customers avoided the chip aisle because crunching was considered emotionally disruptive.
The pharmacy finally posted another sign:
THIS IS NOT A COMPETITION
Everyone read it as a challenge.
The Mayor tried again after finishing his coffee. One Wing Dings owner claimed his reading should be adjusted because the earmuffs were squeezing his head. The other blamed the garlic sauce.
After dozens of back-to-back attempts, the machine displayed:
PLEASE WAIT
The entire pharmacy gasped.
“That sounds serious,” said Joe.
“It’s asking for five minutes,” said Glady. “Something none of you have given it all day.”
When the machine restarted, Glady sat down simply because she had come to Paymore Pharmacy and wanted to check her blood pressure.
She placed her arm in the cuff, opened the weekly sales flyer and began comparing the prices of paper towels.
Millie, her female chocolate Lab, stretched out peacefully beside the chair.
Glady did not close her eyes.
She did not request white noise.
She did not perform THC-adjacent breathing.
She merely waited while the machine did its job.
The results appeared.
The crowd fell silent.
Glady had produced the calmest reading of the day without appearing to care whether she won.
The Mayor stared over the rim of his coffee.
One Wing Dings owner slowly removed his earmuffs.
“This was irresponsible,” Glady said. “It’s a blood-pressure machine, not curling.”
The chalkboard was retired that afternoon. In its place, Paymore Pharmacy posted one final rule:
ONE READING PER CUSTOMER. BRAGGING PROHIBITED.
Glady left with Millie, her shopping flyer and absolutely no interest in defending her title.
Behind them, the Mayor quietly sat down for one more try.
He left his coffee with Joe.
Just in case.