“What a delicate little beeb!” Exclaimed the young man in Erin’s face. Erin did not care for people exclaiming in her face, and she especially did not like young men calling her a “beeb.” She knew recounting this story to her coworkers later would get her some sympathetic eye rolls and a few chortles.
Other than putting up with some annoying guests, this job was the best gig Erin ever had. All she had to do was amble around at the entrance to the corn maze, hand out flyers, smile at guests invitingly. People usually stopped and stared at Erin anyway, so she didn’t have to awkwardly flag them down to hand them a flyer. Her boss told her that Erin had the job as soon as he saw her; her pumpkin face was the perfect addition to Honeysuckle Hill Farm. Good thing I didn’t turn out to be a creep Erin thought as she remembered how eager her boss had been at the interview.
“But yellow makes me sneeze!” A little blond boy cried a few feet away from Erin. His mother had tried to hand him some honeysuckle candies. Erin didn’t care for those candies either, the smell reminded her of hand soap and practically made her gag.
“But sweetie, you wanted this candy!” His mother implored with him. The little boy continued to cry and wail, with an increasingly worried look on his face. His mother sighed in exasperation and looked around desperately. Her eyes met Erin’s and Erin guiltily felt compelled to help. She walked over to the little boy.
“You know,” she began, “yellow makes me sneeze too. Every single yellow thing I’ve ever seen gives me the sneezies. But you know what? I’ve worked here the last few months and never have I once sneezed from these candies.” She gestured up toward the mother and said, “May I?” And the mother handed her the candies quickly, willing to try anything to make her son stop wailing. Erin grabbed them and held them right in front of her nose, gave a long sniff, then smiled at the boy. “See?” she said, “No sneeze!” The boy blinked up at her in disbelief, then the corners of his mouth started to turn up in a smile.
But in her attempt to placate the boy, Erin forgot that the honeysuckle candies reminded her of hand soap. The smell was lingering in her nostrils, filling her entire head. The wooziness set in instantly, and before she could help it, warm, pumpkin vomit was in her throat and then forcing its way out of her mouth. A few seconds later she looked at the little blond boy, now covered in sickly orange goop staring at her with shock and disgust on his face. Erin looked up at the mother, the exact same expression as her son. Before Erin could say or do anything else, the mother grabbed her son and said, “We’re going now.” They stalked off, the boy wailing again.
Erin looked after them in disappointment. Damn she thought. I was really starting to like this job.