Self medicating bonanza

“Why am I yelling? Help me stop yelling.” A gentleman yelled from the top of the stairs down to the butler.
“You’re the one driving this storm. Hopped up on cold medicine. You sir are a codral maniac” the butler replies knowingly.
“As long as I stay this side of Sudafed monster I think I’ll be able to save myself and others from any physical or emotional damage” the gentleman throws back his head with a wobbly pride.
“I doubt it, the way your medicating you brain will be a liquidy mush by lunch.” The butler responds smartly.
“Lunch! What time is it?” asks the gentleman frantically.
“9:30, but I don’t think that has too much relevance to you. You haven’t slept in 2 days.” The butler states wile nodding his head in the direction of the bedroom hopefully.
“Oh yea, I remember Wednesday. Switching from night time formula to non drowsy. Hoohoo. Momentus. Gave me heaps of energy.” He remembers the experiences of the last few days fondly.
“By night time formula are you mean the morphine you were taking. You know that won’t treat your flu.” Sweeping a pile of viles into the bin off the counter.
“It didn’t have to. I didn’t even notice I was sick. I was gloriously ill. Every second of it bliss. Made me sleepy though.” He said, visibly tiring with the thought.
“It also made you hallucinate and try to mount the dog.” The butler shouts from the laundry while emptying the trash down the garbage chute.
“Oh you can’t blame that on the morphine. It could have easily have been the fever, or I could have wanted to do it of my own accord. That’s not morphine’s fault.” The gentleman replied staunchly.
“I see.” He lingers baffled in the statement, Raised eyebrows go unnoticed.
“And what’s with the daily recommended dosage. That’s for chumps. I’ve exceeded that several times over and there’s not the slightest inkling of dying going on inside me. I think it’s made up to scare kiddies. Like the boogie man.” He claims, while pretending to stand at an imaginary podium, speaking to the crowd of 1.
Cue spontaneous fountain of spew erupting from the gentleman’s mouth.
“Looks like it’s time for new medicine. These pills aren’t working anymore. Bring me something in a blue box. Away with you now.” Tapping his walking stick twice upon the wooden floors so it echoes through the house.
“Very well sir” the butler, wanders out to the medicine cabinet, and sits down on the stool with his head in his hands staring at hundreds of boxes of pills in envy.