Psych Fan Fiction ❯ Greetings From Fairfield ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or Jelly Belly. Also, I don't condone underage drinking.

 

Inspired by my trip to the Jelly Belly factory and Shawn's admission in the pilot of having worked in a candy store.

 

A response to Kippling Croft's “57 Jobs Since High School” challenge.

 

 

July 19, 1997

 

Gus,

Guess what I'm doing now. No, seriously, guess.

For the last time, I'm not working as a male stripper. I don't care what Amelia said. That was in ninth grade, anyway.

Okay. I am eating, but that's not what I was referring to.

I am working at the Jelly Belly factory. Isn't that awesome? Technically, I give tours around the place, but most of the time I'm on breaks I got as rewards. What do I do that merits rewards? I go above and beyond to provide the most amazing experience possible for our guests.

No. I'm not just being given time-outs for taking the group into the factory itself. Have more faith in me, will you? I also let them mess around with the flavorings. If you eat a cherry-orange-root beer-chocolate pudding flavored bean, that was this totally hot girl named Chloe.

Anyway, I have all sorts of cool ideas for candy, and now's my time to share them with someone who can make them happen. Unfortunately, the Confectionary Gurus here don't seem to keen on making alcoholic jellybeans. At least, not with enough booze to make them worthwhile. And, yes, I know I'm underage. Relax, will you? You know I'd only eat them when no one's looking.

I'm sending you a bag of pineapple flavored Jelly Bellys with this letter. There's no need to thank me. I may send you more. I think I might last another week here.

 

XOXOXO,

Shawn

 

P.S. Did you know they have jelly bean shaped hamburgers and pizzas here? They're totally sweet!

 

Review please!