"This looks good." "That's Metamucil," Bricker said with disgust, snatching it from her hand. "So?" She turned to scowl at him. "What's wrong with Metamucil?" "It's--" He glanced at the container and read, "A dietary supplement." "That sounds healthy," she said, trying to grab it back. "Eshe," he said, his disgust giving way to amusement. "It's what old mortals take to get regular." "To get regular what?" she asked, and then poked him in the stomach, hard. The moment Bricker bent over with an "oomph," she snatched the container back and repeated, "Regular what?" "Crap," he gasped, clutching his stomach. "I didn't hit you that hard," she said with some disgust of her own. "No." He sighed, straightening. "I meant that's what they get regulated. Crap." Eshe dropped the can in dismay. "They buy crap?"