Each day around mid-morning or mid-afternoon, depending on whether or not I had breakfast, I mosey upstairs to grab a snack and maybe a soda out of the vending machines. Naivety on my part, every day, I scrounge up change and feed it to the monstrosity. And to my horror(!), as I stand in front of that machine on this day of days, the dispenser catches, and my devine nourishment is entrapped in the clutches of Lance vending services! My twix! My one hope for energy, my crunchy satisfaction, my sweet caffienated chocolate! Oh the horror! I glare at the machine. This is not a new rivalry between us. Each day, I am set on consuming the junk food I had coming to me, that the mountains of papers and hours of clicking away on a keyboard have promised me. And likewise, each day, the lurking evil of the vending machine is equally determined to steal away my ray of hope into its metal clutches and throw back it's head and laugh. I kick the machine, I curse at it. I shake it, unsuccessfully try to tip it. I ram against it and threaten to end it's life with the simple pull of a plug. All to no avail. My poor twix bar remains caught, hanging by an ever so small corner, but firmly trapped in the grips of industrial America. I hang my head as I realize that I'll have to walk away, leaving my twix an orphan and myself only the memory of such chocolatey love. I begin to walk away... but WAIT! With an evil gleam in my eye, I turn to face the beast once more. And from my pockets I produce two shiny quarters. The machine stares back in silent horror. I feed it the quarters, push in the magic numbers, and watch in glory as my twix bar is saved, and with it, another bar falls to freedom. I inwardly laugh at the machine as I make off with my prize, for today, I have taken not one, but two of your hostages.