Cheryl was sweetest lady in the world, who made working at Inatech bearable. She loved Holidays, and spent weeks planning. She brought a smörgåsbord of treats, and each holiday had its own pièce de résistance. Halloween was no exception.

She stood there holding a peanut butter wrapped pastry.

“It’s a mouth-gasim.” Steve interjected. Want kids Steve? Then shut up now.

“It’s got peanut butter,” I said, trying to ignore Steve,” and I have arachibutyrophobia. I’m sorry Cheryl, I can’t eat it."

“It’s ok, dear. I have a nephew who’s allergic to peanuts, also.” Cheryl’s frumpy body began to relax.

“I’m not Allergic.” I don’t know why I had to explain. Maybe it was something about that purple shirt with the orange pumpkin that made me want to. “It’s… a phobia. I’m afraid of it getting stuck to the roof of my mouth.”

“Afraid of licking your brains out?” Steve said with a smirk. “Don’t you have to have brains first?”

That does it, Steve. I’m wearing stilettos tomorrow and your nuts will be sorry.