Well What Do You Know It's Friday

One week ago today, my best friend, Risa, came to visit for the twenty-first anniversary of Lou's birth. Lou created a detailed schedule for everything we would do during every second of the weekend. Naturally, the first thing on the list was to drive to Walmart to get chocolate and ice cream so we could watch Megamind. On our way out of that giant disorganized mess we call Walmart, I looked over to the crane games and longingly sighed. It's been a lifelong goal to win something from one of those money stealing machines. So my dear friends took it upon themselves to make sure my dream came true. We scrounged through our purses (which are just as disorganized as Walmart itself) and found quarters. Quarters which are as precious as gold to poor college students.

Risa and Lou inserted their inestimable quarters into the machine and I manned the controls. Positioning the crane perfectly over the desired object was like attempting to land a lunar module. I punched the red button, the claw opened, went down, and closed half-heartedly on the ear the creature. The claw went back up with nothing in its grasp. I moaned and pressed my face against the glass, staring at what I knew I would never have.

Lou and Risa produced two more quarters. Just enough for one more try. Then we saw it. A stuffed Superman action figure. He was perched precariously on the edge of on the dark pit where the toys were dropped if they ever had the chance to get caught by the claw. We knew we could grab him. Or knock him into the pit. Or something. In went the quarters. Down went the claw. Up came nothing.

I didn't even have a chance to cry before Risa's arm was shoved through the trap door with my newly purchased umbrella. She maneuvered her Superman-stealing-contraption around his neck. "I paid for that thing, and I'm not letting it take my money!" she exclaimed. After several minutes of struggle, hysterical laughter from Lou and I, cheers from passing college students (who I assume had also lost countless quarters to these types of machines), and disapproving looks from sour-faced adults, Superman was free. He flew into our shopping cart with his polyester red cape, and all four of us flew out of the store together.

Now Superman lives on my bed propped up by my pillows. You know you have true friends if they're willing to steal toys from Walmart just so you can live your childhood dream. Well, it wasn't exactly stealing. . .We paid a dollar for it. In quarters. Quarters are priceless.