The Pharmacists War On Diabetes: Pulp Fiction Style

The other day, while visiting a pharmacy-to-be-named later, I heard a low voice say, "Hey fatso, come here." I looked around and couldn't locate the voice (unless aspirin bottles talk).
"Pssst, hey rotund one, come here," said the faceless voice.
"Who said that?" I said.
"As if it's any of your business, fat boy, it's me, your pharmacist," he said. "Do you know what happens this month?"
"Ummm, no," I said
He grimaced from behind the pharmacist booth and said, "It's the Pharmacist's War On Diabetes month and you better put the freakin' Mountain Dew back in the cooler before I frag your lard butt right there in the incontinence aisle."
Never one to back down from aggression I said, "No, I don't wanna, I'm thirsty, and anyway, a please would be nice"
His eyes turned black, like Willow in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and he said, "What?"
I puffed out my man-boobies and said, "I said a please would be nice."
He stepped from the pharmacist booth and said, "Get it straight, fat body, I'm not here to say please. I'm here to tell you what to do. And if self preservation is an instinct that you possess, you'd better put it back and put it back quick. If my help's not appreciated, lots of luck, bubble butt."
I de-puffed my man-boobies and said, "I don't mean any disrespect, I just don't like pharmacists barking orders at me."
The pharmacist shook his head and said, "If I'm curt with you, it's because time is a factor here. I think fast, talk fast, dispense prescriptions fast and need you to act fast if you want to get out of this. So, pretty please, with NO SUGAR on top, put back the Mountain Dew."
I did.