No Amazon parent bought this sort of thing for their potty training child, anymore. But there was a reason that they were still on the market and repackaged in fancy boxes made to look like gifts. I’d seen Halloween and Valentine variations too. Any holiday involving candy saw a spike in Little “accidents” and subsequent “adoptions”. If I ate this now, I’d be shitting my pants by lunch.

Typical Amazon stuff.

I looked into the empty slot in the middle of the box. It’s very possible that the chili flake was put in there as a red herring. A safe choice in a box full of poison. Either that, or she just chucked it in the garbage. “Have as many as you like,” the receptionist said. “No need to be shy.”

I put the lid back on the box and moved to go. “Thank you,” I said. “I’ll enjoy them later.” I was half tempted to say that my students might enjoy them as well, there being so many, but that would be laying it on a bit too thick.

Her hand shot out, blocking my chest as I made a move to walk around her desk. “Oh no, take one,” Miss Forrest said. “I insist.”

My nostrils flared. “You insist?”

“Yes sir,” she said. “I got them for you as a present. And it would be oh so rude of you to not let me see you enjoy at least one. Don’t you agree?” Oooooh, that was a good one. Calling me “sir” as if she really thought of us as equals. Forrest brought her “A” game today.

Think Clark. Think. I hadn’t planned on this. The chili flake had to have been safe. That’s why she ate it: To get rid of my safe option and I couldn’t refuse without falling into a circular logic trap that would surely trigger every crazy Amazon brain to rallying behind her.

LIGHT BULB!

I smiled, sweetly. “Why Mo-…I mean Miss Forrest,” I said. The look on the giant’s face suddenly looked a bit hot and bothered. It was almost like I’d just talked dirty to her. “You’re absolutely right.”

“I am?”

“Please forgive me my lapse in etiquette, Ma’am. I was only following your example.”

She was still dazed; not connecting dots. The “slip up” had thrown her off her game a bit. Good. “You were?”

“You said you wanted to share these with me, but you ate the first one without me.” I presented the box again. “Please. Share one with me. Let’s both eat one. Together.”

What I was suggesting was finally registering to her. “I couldn’t,” she said, inching away in her rolly chair. “Any more will go straight to my hips.” I was suddenly holding a poisonous snake.

“I’m going on a diet too. But this is special,” I said. “A gift. To share. Between friends. Right?”

I opened the lid again. “Right…” she said.

“I’ll have one, if you show me how,” I pressed. “I’ve never had them. Do I just pop one in my mouth or bite in half?“ Forrest’s hands had retreated to her chest, like little claws. She reminded me of a T-Rex; a T-Rex that was suddenly deathly afraid of chocolates.

These things were so strong that they’d work on an Amazon just as easily as me. Forrest would likely end up in diapers too if she had an accident. She probably wouldn’t be “adopted” out, but she might be forced to work wearing diapers “just in case”. And she definitely wouldn’t be allowed to take any Little as her own. Crazy cut both ways sometimes.