Tramp Stamps R Us
By raincoaster
Ah, the ubiquitous and well-beloved gumball machine. A sight to warm the cockles of any heart, no matter how wizened and dried. Who among us cannot confess to (even now) covertly scoping out the offerings, searching in vain for that five cent jellybean motherload. But as the ancients knew, the only constant is change, and change, my friend, has come to the gumball machine. Not only are prizes segregated now, removing the delightful thrill of actual gambling and completely slaughtering the grey market in traded prizes, but the prizes themselves have changed.
If only they’d had this a generation ago! Legions of now-regretful inked-up former hipsters could have gotten the urge to impersonate Cher out of their systems before puberty (or toilet training, for the either truly precocious or truly slow).
They grow up so fast!
