New Great Citrus Taste
June 4, 2007

Greta cringed at the sound of Lizzie Anderson sucking loudly on her citrus-flavored cough drop. With each smacking, slurping sound, Greta's skin crawled and her hairs stood on end. "Stop it, for God's sake, stop it!" She whispered to her computer monitor.

Every day at the same time, Lizzie Anderson reached into the crinkly plastic bag in the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a citrus-flavored cough drop. Sometimes it was lemon lime, sometimes orange. She would put it into her mouth and suck on it incessantly for forty minutes, no more, no less. Greta timed her every day. After exactly forty minutes, Lizzie always bit down on her lemon lime or orange cough drop and crunched it out of existence. Hearing that crunching sound was always a great relief to Greta, who, from her cubicle opposite Lizzie's, was forced to endure these repulsive sucking sounds Monday through Friday, from exactly three o'clock to exactly three-forty PM.

Today, for some reason, Lizzie had decided to indulge in a second citrus-flavored cough drop. It was four-fifteen and the drop was lemon lime. Greta could smell its sickly-sweet aroma wafting over the ten foot distance between their respective desks. She couldn't decide if the smell or the sounds were more repugnant.

Greta stared at her computer screen and tried to concentrate on her work. More smacking sounds floated over from behind her. She turned her head and glared at Lizzie Anderson, who was cheerily typing away at her keyboard, oblivious to the agony she was causing her neighbor.

Suck, slurp, smack! The sounds were louder now, and more frequent. Lizzie was obviously enjoying this second cough drop even more than she had the first one at three o'clock. Greta felt a sudden chill at the thought that two drops a day could become Lizzie's new routine.

"Please, for the love of God, stop!" Greta pleaded under her breath. She was breathing heavily now, clutching her head in her hands, covering her ears in a futile attempt to block out the sounds.

Slurp, smack, smack, slurp! They seemed to echo now, reverberating through the entire room, bouncing off of the cubicle walls and coming to a landing right on Greta's desk. She now felt as if she herself were the lemon lime cough drop, rolling around in Lizzie's big mouth, covered in warm, thick saliva. She could feel Lizzie's rough tongue flipping her around; see her thin, wrinkly lips opening and closing, sucking hot air in and out. At this revolting thought, a heavy wave of nausea overcame Greta, and she had to grip the edge of her desk to keep from falling out of her chair.

Greta's face grew hot and beads of sweat formed under her bangs. The words on her computer screen were now blurring together, rolling around like the cough drop in Lizzie Anderson's mouth. She couldn't focus on her work, all she could think about were the sounds, the stomach-turning sucking sounds that should have ceased at three-forty PM. The sounds had to stop, and she had to stop them.

Slowly, Greta got up from her chair and started to walk the ten feet between her cubicle and that of Lizzie Anderson. Her legs were shaking and her palms were sweating. The sounds grew louder and louder, Smack, suck, slurp! Greta almost stumbled, but she caught her balance. She was now directly behind Lizzie's chair.

Lizzie turned around and smiled pleasantly up at Greta, "Need something?" She asked. Greta's mouth felt dry as she moved it around, trying to form the right words. Lizzie was still smacking on her cough drop, right there in front of Greta's face. She could see it now, see the grotesque, green, slimy thing, flipping around on Lizzie's tongue as she sucked and slurped, smiling at Greta with her wet, wrinkly lips.

"Greta?" Lizzie's smile was fading now. "Something I can help you with?" Greta struggled to steady her breathing. Her fists were tightly balled and one was slowly rising toward Lizzie's face. Somehow, she had to stop the sounds. Her fist could make them stop.

A dark grin slowly formed on Greta's face. Each inch her fist rose in the air was increasingly satisfying. She imagined herself lifting her arm all the way up and hitting Lizzie square in the mouth. She could see the offending lemon lime cough drop flying out and dropping onto Lizzie's desk, spraying blood, saliva and green slime all over piles of paperwork.

Greta's fist shook as she inched it up higher and higher. It was almost there.

Lizzie was beginning to look puzzled. Her mouth suddenly froze and the sucking sounds stopped. Greta's arm paused in mid-air as Lizzie's teeth began to move up and down, crunching the cough drop out of existence, just as she did every day at three-forty PM. Lizzie swallowed hard with a loud gulp, and the sounds stopped for good. "You OK, Greta?" She asked, now slowly backing away in her swivel chair.

It was as if Greta had suddenly awoken from a terrible nightmare. The normal office noises were fading back in, as if someone had turned down the volume and was now bringing it back up. Keyboards clicked, papers shuffled, and phones rang, but the sucking sounds were gone. The sounds were gone, and Greta was still standing there in Lizzie Anderson's cubicle, her fist poised in the air in front of Lizzie's big empty mouth.

She took a few unsteady steps backward and looked around. The top drawer of Lizzie's desk was partially open, and Greta could see the crinkly plastic bag of citrus-flavored cough drops sticking out. "New great citrus taste!" The label proclaimed in large, red, comical lettering. Greta laughed softly to herself and then turned to the bewildered Lizzie Anderson. "Got anymore of those cough drops?" She asked.