I was doing laundry, it was late at night, and I had the munchies.

Generally, I go in, do my clothing, get a soda from the 7-Eleven, and call it a day. But with a few extra quarters, I figured I’d get me something to eat.

The machine had onion rings, those fluffy fake chips of baked onions. I haven’t had any in so long, it was incredible.

I dropped my quarters in, and out came my bag. Almost.

It sat there, taunting me, hanging at the end of the row, almost laughing at me. So I tilted the machine, and it laughed no more.

Falling two rows, I smiled. At the third row, I cried. This bag was saved by another bag, also dangling, probably a victim itself to another purchaser who chose not to tilt.

I tilted, kicked, banged, and shook the machine to no avail. It sat there, almost savoring the fact that I lost my money and will never get to savor in the yummy deliciousness it contained inside it’s foil wrappings.

The little tiny Korean guy that runs the place was sweeping up, so I asked him if he could help. He waddled to the machine, looked at it, then grabbed the side of it. He gave it a violent shake, one a man his size should not be able to do.

The bag lost the battle, he reached in, handed me my fake onions, and then waddled back to work.

And to be honest, it wasn’t worth the hassle.