Monday, September 15, 2003
I have had request!
I give you
"Katie, The Treat, and the Uninvited Visitors"
or
"To The Vending Machine and Back Again: An Electrical Engineering Graduate Student's Tale"
'Twas a night so misty, the sky was muted from black to silvery gray. The fog smeared all points of lights into golden fuzzballs and seamed to swollow up the smack of my flip-flops upon the campus courtyard. The only other sound in the solitary night was rumble. Was it a giant playing the bongos across the ocean, a dragon gargling mouthwash before bed-time? Nay, it was my stomach yearning for a treat, like a school boy yearns for summer.
In the distance I saw the dimly lit corridor that housed half a dozen glowing vending and soda machines. Four quarters banged a violent carrillon against themselves in my pocket in anticipation until finally they were silenced by my sudden stop. I stood faced with a 7-foot glassy vending machine.
I now faced a difficult challenge: which to choose, which to choose... My eyes finally rested from dizzying perusal on a white and green wax-papered package. Ah, cherry pie. The quarters were ceremoniously pushed down the slide, the buttons 1-4-6 were urgently pressed, and the silver helix ensnaring the pies twisted laboriously. As the gears were halted, the pie was realesed from its spiral prision into my loving hands.
I tore open the pie, already feeling the smooth ruby-red filling juxtaposed on my tongue against the crispy crust. But alas! It was not to be for the inside of that package not only lay the singular tast-sensation, but also approximatly a hundred not so singular ants! Woe is the person who finds their cherry pie overrun with ants!
I give you
"Katie, The Treat, and the Uninvited Visitors"
or
"To The Vending Machine and Back Again: An Electrical Engineering Graduate Student's Tale"
'Twas a night so misty, the sky was muted from black to silvery gray. The fog smeared all points of lights into golden fuzzballs and seamed to swollow up the smack of my flip-flops upon the campus courtyard. The only other sound in the solitary night was rumble. Was it a giant playing the bongos across the ocean, a dragon gargling mouthwash before bed-time? Nay, it was my stomach yearning for a treat, like a school boy yearns for summer.
In the distance I saw the dimly lit corridor that housed half a dozen glowing vending and soda machines. Four quarters banged a violent carrillon against themselves in my pocket in anticipation until finally they were silenced by my sudden stop. I stood faced with a 7-foot glassy vending machine.
I now faced a difficult challenge: which to choose, which to choose... My eyes finally rested from dizzying perusal on a white and green wax-papered package. Ah, cherry pie. The quarters were ceremoniously pushed down the slide, the buttons 1-4-6 were urgently pressed, and the silver helix ensnaring the pies twisted laboriously. As the gears were halted, the pie was realesed from its spiral prision into my loving hands.
I tore open the pie, already feeling the smooth ruby-red filling juxtaposed on my tongue against the crispy crust. But alas! It was not to be for the inside of that package not only lay the singular tast-sensation, but also approximatly a hundred not so singular ants! Woe is the person who finds their cherry pie overrun with ants!
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