The fluorescent light that illuminates the confined box I call home has been beaming since this morning. The frigid, metal ring that wraps itself tightly around my figure has yet to spin today. I happen to be in my final days. I am in the front lines, closest to the window for all the massive beasts to gaze at and drool over. I lie in the fifth row from the top and two rows in from the right. The beasts must use its claws to press the buttons “5” and “F” in order to steal my kind from our home. Whenever one of us falls to our inevitable death, the metal ring that once made us feel so secure betrays us as it begins to spin slowly, pushing us out of our row and over the edge, all the way down to the pitch black pit. That is where the beasts are able to reach us. Once in the pit, there is no way of making out alive. Some have tried wedging themselves between the pit’s slick, black walls and the swinging door that the beasts use to reach in and snatch us up, but that just makes the beast angry. They will shake our box, strike the window, and extend their arm up into the pit; they will do anything in order to retrieve what they paid for.
Beasts walk by all day long. Some don’t even notice us and instead hurry on their way, some linger in front of the box determining if they even want to steal one of us and graciously decide not to, and the worst beasts of all establish which of us is the most appealing to them and then takes whoever it may be. That’s not even the worst. The worst part is once they have crouched over and obtained their treat from the pit, they stand back up, they take their little snack, and they pull it apart to eat the innards. Then they nonchalantly throw the body away like it meant nothing; like they thing they just ate didn’t have thoughts or feelings. All of the beasts have empty expressions on their faces like it doesn’t even faze them that they are killing our kind. They effortlessly end a great amount of our lives every single day. The first beast of this day arrives, examining each of the unfortunate souls that are displayed in the front line like a doctor examining a patient. Some of us are sweat and some are salty. Each of us wears bright advertisements on our person in an attempt to draw in the beasts and convince them that we are the one they want. The beast has chosen and quickly unfolds the green paper that they give to the box in exchange for one of us. He slides it into the slot, presses the small, round buttons on the exterior of our box, and suddenly, 2D falls from above and lands with a thud in the pit. The beast hunches over and the door squeaks open and shut in a matter of seconds as it reaches its claws inside to seize its reward. There is a sigh of relief among those of us who remain as the beast turns and walks away.
This process continues for a few hours. Beasts come and go, cold heartedly trading our kind for the meaningless green paper. Countless of us have fallen today including 4A, 1C, and 5E. 5E was right by my side. Seeing 5E disappear into the hopelessness of the pit made my stomach squeamish. The next beast to come is not alone. This time, the beast has two tiny beasts with it that resemble the big one. These beasts don’t look as emotionless, they look excited and ferocious as they dance around the tall beast, pulling and tugging on it to bring it this direction. They press their messy faces up against the glass that separates them from me, and as their noses squish to the window, their eyes widen at the sight of our vibrant packaging. They jump up and down as the big one pulls out the green paper ready to make the trade. A piece of paper goes in, one of the smaller beast points through the glass, and down goes 3B. The little beast rapidly sticks its much smaller claw into the pit without any hesitation. Then the next piece of paper slides into the box and the other miniature beast points directly at me. My heart drops. The larger beast, with that same empty expression, presses the very buttons that I have dreaded since I was spun into the front line. Then it begins. My familiar, cold spiral that once kept me from falling over the edge now spins around my sides and releases me, allowing me to drop into the dark depths of the pit like an anchor into the ocean. The outside light shines in when the second tiny claw slides itself through the door and takes hold of me. I’m yanked out of the pit and am held tightly in the grasp of the second smaller beasts. It gazes at me with hungry eyes and then snap! It pulls at my sides to tear my body open and that’s it. My time served in the box is over forever as I now serve as a treat for this little beast. I look back at my home to see the next 5F already taking my place in the front line. There are some vivid, lit up words at the top of the box that read “Vending Machine.” I wonder what that means.