The Scarecrow's Cure

A sneezy scarecrow gets a cure for his straw allergies & finally scares the crows. WC: 290

Everyone said our scarecrow was the worst in the entire county.

The crows treated him like a theme park ride.
One sat on his hat eating corn.
Another napped in his shirt pocket.
A third used his arm as a diving board.

Dad said, “That thing couldn’t scare a needle off a pincushion.”

But one afternoon, right in the middle of the crows’ daily picnic, the scarecrow suddenly groaned.

“My head…” it muttered. “I’ve got a *terrible* headache.”

All the crows froze.

I froze too.

Then the scarecrow sneezed so hard a puff of straw shot out and smacked a crow right off its perch. The flock exploded into the sky, screeching like someone had lit them on fire.

When the dust settled, the scarecrow sagged. “Kid… help.”

I should’ve run, but instead I whispered, “What’s wrong?”

He pointed to his stuffed head. “They filled me with bargain-bin straw. I’m allergic. Every sneeze feels like someone jabbing a needle inside my skull.”

I stared at him. “You’re allergic… to straw?”

He threw his hands up. “What kind of cruel irony is that? I scare birds, not the pharmacy aisle!”

So that night, I snuck out with a bottle of antihistamines. I tucked a couple into his shirt pocket.

The scarecrow sighed dramatically. “Ohhh, blessed relief. I can finally breathe. Do you know how hard it is to sneeze when your nose is painted on?”

The next morning, not a single crow was brave enough to land in the field. Not because the scarecrow was terrifying- but because he wasn’t sneezing straw grenades anymore.

Dad scratched his head. “Guess the scarecrow finally figured out his job.”

I gave the scarecrow a secret thumbs-up.

He didn’t sneeze.

That alone felt like a miracle.

Written for: "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"