Bad Taste

Tarquin Smythe-Wetherby felt uncomfortable for the first time in his life. His family were important – he was a somebody. The family were the founding members of the upscale Farnham Golf Club. He himself had been chair of the Membership Committee multiple times.

Recently, he felt the members were looking at him in an odd way. When he approached small, huddled groups quietly talking in hushed tones, they would go silent as he drew near.

He had the distinct impression that something was not right. He knew people were talking about him behind his back.

One afternoon, at home as he was leaving for round of golf, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. What he saw made him stop and gasp. Surely, that was not his reflection.

He helped develop the dress code for the club. What had he been thinking? How long had he been dressing in this outlandish attire?

There in the mirror he saw a clown looking back at him. Purple cap, polka dot ascot, plaid shirt, striped pants, and orange high topped sneakers. The colors looked like a paint bucket free-for-all. Nothing matched or made sense.

He wondered why his taste in clothes had changed. Where did this outlandish taste come from?

Something in his brain clicked. He rushed to the bathroom and looked in the medicine cabinet. On the label of his new anxiety medication was the answer.

WARNING: Side effects include – muscle cramps, headaches, stomach distress, and bad taste.