Those Brownies Will Become Greenies
(When I’m in eighth grade, my class does a large project for what is a combination bake sale and running a small business. We do months of work to plan, design business cards, create stock emails, sell stocks to teachers and other students, and calculate everything from unit costs to how much we’ll need to earn to break even. The only fun part of this entire ordeal is selling our baked goods, which is scheduled to happen on a Friday. Then, a few days before the sale, I come down with the worst case of the flu I have ever had. Even though I’ve been out of school all week, I’m determined to go and sell my brownies, even if I have to sit on the floor wrapped in a blanket and holding a bucket. On the morning of the bake sale, however, I’m bent double over the toilet, insisting between retches that I can go to school.)
Mom: “For the last time, you are not going to school like this!”
Me: “But I—“ *vomits into toilet* “—have to! I—“ *gags again* “I can’t miss this! This is literally the only fun part of the entire project!” *vomits again*
Mom: “No! You’re throwing up and you have a fever of a hundred and three! I’ll bring the brownies to school for you and see if someone else can sell them for you.”
Me: “But I need to—“ *gags* “—sell—“ *gags again*
Mom: “No! You are staying home today!”
(She eventually managed to convince me — however begrudgingly — to stay home. She got a friend of mine to sell the brownies for me alongside her own treats. To this day, I’m put out that I got so sick that I wasn’t able to sell my brownies.)