Please don't feed PickleMan
Please don't feed PickleMan
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Your turn around and get back to fiddling with the machine, confident that doing so will result in a more pleasing arrangement of things in your basement. The hissing you hear behind you is somewhat troubling, but you put your mind at ease by reassuring yourself that it is just the sound of your sneaker pumps deflating. God bless the Polynesian sweatshop that made them.

I miss the 25 cent days.

You run into a slight snag: whereas before, the machine was content to whisk you away to an exotic new basement in exchange for a sensual joystick/button massage combo, it is now demanding that you deposit fifty cents. Unfortunately, all you've got on you is 1/4 of a dollar. It all makes sense now: This cursed arcade cabinet has teleported inconvenient and dangerous things into your basement all in the hopes of extorting money from you. For all you know, this cabinet could have been delivered to your house by your ex-wife. Well, you haven't paid alimony before, and you're not about to start now.

You scan the room and locate your trusty flathead screwdriver. Mankind has developed countless technological marvels over the centuries, and yet it seems like we all wind up falling back on the simpler ones. You ponder this point as you jam the tip of the screwdriver into the machine's coin slot. A few minutes of ruthless jimmying and finagling eventually loosen the front of the apparatus, and you careful pull back the door to look inside.

anybody have a soldering iron?

Upon closer examination of the coin slot mechanism, you see that in the process of open the hatch, you've gotten a quarter jammed in the change return mechanism. Lucky you! Now all you need to do is pop that quarter out, close up the machine, give it a few taps with your hammer to make sure it's working again, and then you're home free. You reach out with your screwdriver and jostle the coin a little.

It doesn't take much to get the coin loose, especially when you consider the unnatural amount of force being put on it by the springs in the mechanism. It's enormous enough, as it turns out, that the coin fires out of the machine with a loud "ping" and heads straight for you! You throw your hands up in front of your face, but relax when you hear the coin bounce off of the wall some twenty feet behind you. That was close. The stress is starting to give you a headache. You reach up to rub your troubled brow, and feel a thin hole dug into your forehead. How odd. You feel a sudden draft on your temporal lobe, and realize that the hole goes all the way through your head. Man, that was one fast coin. You try to speculate on the speed the coin would have had to have been traveling, but that part of your brain is now impressed upon the embossed, metallic likeness of George Washington. You decide to go with idea #2: sleepy time.



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