LNHY/ACRA: The Daily Super Short-Short Story #16

Arspitzer arspitzer at aol.com
Sun Sep 5 16:34:36 PDT 2004

<<Warning:  You might be endangering your soul to eternal damnation in 
hellfire if you read this series.  Just thought you should know that.>>

                  The Daily Super Short-Short Story #16

LAST TIME:  Gotta-Luv-Me Lad revealed his version of what happened to 
the Vending Machine of No-Free-Lunches.  And now...

     'The Ghost of the Vending Machine of No-Free-Lunches' Version'

I dreamed of death.  I wished for death.  And you know what I got?  Yep.  

Somehow I thought it would be a lot better.  Being a vending machine 
sucked.  You know what I wanted to be?  A ballerina.  To dance in a tutu 
in 'Swan Lake'.  But fate and God made me a vending machine instead.

It's boring being a vending machine.  You just kind of stay in one 
place.  You can't move.  And sometimes humans will walk right up to you 
and push your buttons.  At first it's kind of fun having your buttons 
pushed, but then it just starts to become incredibly irritating.  But 
hey, at least it's something.  When you're a ghost, people don't even 
push your buttons.

When you're a vending machine there isn't much to do.  So I dreamed of 
death.  Death would be so much better, right?  I used to think up 
teenage suicidal death poetry.  I couldn't write it because I had no 
hands.  But I used to think about writing it a lot.

You want to hear some?  Okay.

                       The shadow is black.
                       Life is blacker.
                       Death's a cracker.

Okay!  So it's not that great!  So sue me!  Have you ever tried writing 
suicidal teenage death poetry when you were suicidal?  It's tough man!  
So I'm no Sylvia Plath!

And so one day I'm just standing around like I do every other single day 
when this sock starts crawling inside me.  Now this is kind of 
interesting.  I'm not sure what's happening.  But it's interesting.  And 
kind of ticklish.  I'd laugh, but you know I'm a vending machine so I 
can't even laugh.  Then I realize this sock is trying to steal some of 
my goodies without paying!  So I grab the little bastard!  I would have 
eventually let him go, you know.  But he starts screaming.  And the next 
thing I know some psycho human is whacking me with a sledgehammer.  
Which human?  I can't tell.  They all look a like to me.

And so this human is really pounding the hell out of me!  It hurts!  
Boy, does it hurt!  After awhile though the pain goes away.  And then 
you know what?  I'm dead.  It's weird.  And I'm a ghost.  And I'm still 
static.  I'm still not moving.  I thought death would be better.  But 
it's just the same old shit in a new wrapper.

And that's what happened.  And now I'm a ghost.  And now I can't even 
dream of death.  All I wanted to be was a ballerina.  Was that too much 
to ask for?  I guess so.  Well that's my life.  That's my death.

Life sucks, don't you know.  But you know what?  Death's no cracker.  I 
can tell you that much!

A FEW HOURS FROM NOW:  Lambsy the Lamb's Version!

Author's Notes:  There's no moral to this story.

Arthur "Cracker" Spitzer

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