I love when life plays out like a short story. About a month ago I was on campus and I was sitting in class feeling especially thirsty. Maybe it was the sausages wrapped in pancakes I had for breakfast. Or because the Santa Ana's were decidingly dry that day. Or maybe it was simply the fact that liquid had not touched my mouth for quite some time. Regardless, I was a thirsty boy. So when the clock struck twelve fifteen, a mere fifteen minutes after my carriage was a pumpkin again, I exited class into the hallway. I am usually particularly fond of chocolate milk, but a thirst this great could not be quench with simply milk, it simply would not suffice. So I walk down the halls and approach a vending machine. With only two dollars in my pocket, I had my pick of the litter. Agave-lime Sobe? Blue Gatorade? Cranberry-Apple juice? Grape Crush? No, none would be my beverage of choice that day, I had to have the Pomegranate-Cranberry Sobe. At a dollar and three quarters, I had enough to purchase that Sobe. I fed the machine my bills and it devoured them hungrily and in return for the meal I provided, it offered me a beverage of my choosing. I selected my Pomegranate-Cranberry and waited for the machine to deliver. The slot holding back my future liquid refreshment opened, but the beverage was not mine that day, oh no. No, as soon as the slot opened, it closed again, the drink never having time to react to the open gate. And there we stood, a thirsty man, a lonely Sobe, and a greedy vendor.
Which takes us to today. The opening scenario proves true once again, a thirsty Austin, sausage and pancake breakfast, warm winds, and dry mouth. But our hero knows better this time around. I decide that water from a fountain is not only free, but it can be just as refreshing as a hodgepodge from a machine. I drink my fill, but not too much, as to avoid the bloat. But from across the hall I hear a jingle. And a jangle. And another jingle. An empty hallway is all I have to look at, well a hallway and a thieving vending machine. The machine is spewing coins out into its slot. It doesn't seem to want to stop. Plink, plink, plink. When if finishes I reach in and pull out the treasure and count the loot. A jaunty bunch of coins shine back at me; nickels, dimes, and quarters. A sum total of three dollars and twenty cents, nearly double what what I had put into the month prior. The machine realized the error of its ways and sought out repentance. I hope you take this story and put it to good use. Maybe one day the wrongs against you will be righted, but lets not forget to right our own wrong-doings. Or something.