Not-So-Thrilling Overcharge

I was going to be in this play. It was taking place at this big, old farm house on a gravel road. Everything about this farm was dirty, overgrown, and rundown. The couple that owned the farm were really nice, and had a huge family. And by huge I mean somewhere around 19 kids. I don't know if they were all the couple's kids, or if they were adopted, though. The play was going to be in the barn, so we practiced out there.

Then it came time to practice our part. There were about 10 of us doing the same part. We were to walk around the room (around the audience) like zombies. Fortuntely, my Thriller background made me well-qualified for this role. The guy in the front of the pack kept counting down our entrance from the side curtain, but I thought that was dumb, since we were just zombies (didn't have to be perfect) and since the audience would hear him counting.
As we left the building to head back to the house, I found some nail polish sitting on a table, so I painted my nails on my left hand. As I put it on, I realized it was costume polish, because it made all my nails look bruise-purple. They would actually use that on the actors' faces to achieve a gory look.

After I left the farm, I was with my boyfriend and some other friends. I saw something that made me realize that I had been overcharged for the medication I had gotten earlier in the day; I was supposed to be charged $1.55, and instead I was charged $3.10. I wasn't angry over a buck and a half, but I was a little disappointed, so I mentioned it to someone. She decided I needed to do something about it, so she wrote a short letter to take to the pharmacy and signed it. Then we all hopped into my boyfriend's car and headed back to the house to talk to the parents about it. I couldn't remember for sure which house was theirs, as I kept saying, "I think it was that first one.... or maybe this one." They all looked the same. I asked my boyfriend if he had it plugged into his gps, and he said yes, so I trusted him.
We pulled up to the house, and I recognized it right away; I saw the pasture we had gone out in, and the dirty, white house close to the barn. I stepped out of the car and asked my friend what the purpose of stopping there was. She said, "to have them sign the letter, since you don't have the receipt [for the medication]."
I walked in the house, and they had just finished up with something, and were starting snack. It took a few minutes to pass out snacks to so many kids, so I just waited quietly for them to be available. The mom was Reba McIntire, and the dad was a guy i know.