There are times in my life when the violence escapes. It oozes out from off the XBoxes and Playstations and takes on a malevolent form in my daily life. Today the violence escaped again. It didn’t come oozing out slowly. It didn’t come pouring forth from my ears like twin clouds of steam. Today the violence escaped and it was because I let it out.
It’s all because of those damn Cheetos, you see.
It all started when I found 85 cents lying around my pockets. So I took a trip downstairs to score me some of that junk food. You see, I don’t get to eat hydrogenated oils filled with trans fatty whuzits. It sounds more like a Lamb song to me. And because I don’t usually partake of the sweet bounty of Chester, I hadn’t really realized that the coil mechanism that dropped my snack was as busted as certain LCD price fixers.
So in goes my $.85 and out comes…nothing. The bag of chips had gotten stuck in the machine and I’d be damned if someone else with 85 cents and a penchant for finger stains was gonna come along and score two for the price of one.
The first few shoves at the machine did nothing. But I hadn’t spent my college days for nothing. Years of Tekken came squealing back, exacerbated my excitement for the next Street Fighter game. I’m telling you…I learned today what great joy there was in pounding the living tar out of a machine trying to deprive me from my god-given right to snack.
So Hadouken to you, Mr. Vending Machine. Hadouken.
=BG Out=