I am a 25¢ yo-yo.
I spend my days in a gumball machine next to hollow plastic balls and sticky bugs that stain the walls when you throw them. Life is pretty dull in here and the fashion jewelry next door is rude. Thats not how things started out though. In the beginning it was different.
When I was first being made I thought, “Man this is cool! I’m gonna be a yo-yo! Kids can do tricks with me and I get to move super fast and everyone will love me!” I found out I have millions of brothers and sisters. We all look exactly the same except for our colors. We were all so happy to be toys; to get to be played with!
The day we got our strings was supposed to be so special. It’s all we talked about. It turned out to be another disappointment. It was only a couple pieces of thick cotton thread that they tied to my tiny axle. Sigh. It was right about then the depression set in. I stopped talking and just kept to myself. My brothers and sisters started to get concerned about me.
The next week we were separated and stuffed into cardboard boxes and shipped all over the world. I came here. Its hard to tell from inside my glass cage buried underneath all these other cheap hunks of plastic but I think I’m outside a grocery store. I still remember the day they poured me in here. The guy with bad breath just tore open the box and dumped us in. After a week of pitch black and thumping and bumping around in that box expecting to be in a toy store I then get blinded by bright sun. Then I almost get cracked being tossed in a gumball machine. I died a little bit inside that day.
So its been a few years. I’m at the bottom of the pile now. Lots of new crappy bubblegum toys have been dumped on top of me. That guy still has bad breath. I’ve watched so many faces through that glass. Its always different versions of the same thing: “Mommy mommy PLEASE!?”… the loud KER-CHUNK of the quarter dropping… and one more falls out of the bottom. The excitement on the kids face turns immediately to disappointment when they see what mommy wasted her quarter on.
What gets me are the hopeful fools in here, saying that they can’t wait til its their turn and how their kid will love them and play with them forever. Its always the guys away from the glass that say that stuff. They don’t see the kids that cry when they get the wrong thing. They don’t see the discarded toys left to rot under the machine. I still have nightmares about the puzzle ball that one kid stomped on and crushed just for fun. He was one of the hopeful ones. Idiots.
So now its my turn. I’m up next for dropping down the hole of destiny to my final demise or worse. I’m cool with it though. You kind of come to a peaceful complacency about it when you’ve been in here as long as I have.
Here she comes. You can tell the ones that are gonna turn the knob. They have a look to them. Oh yeah. Daddy gave her a shiny quarter just for a special little toy: me.
Wow… fresh air… and a faint hint of cookies on her fingers. She looks puzzled.
“That’s a yo-yo sweetie, you tie it to your finger and it goes up and down.”
She ties me to her pudgy digit and I go spinning free for the first time. Oh the RUSH! The speed! The wooshing air! This is what its all about! I feel so right! For the first time in so many years I feel happy and hopeful as I whirl around…
And then it stops. I’ve hit the end of my string and I’ve stopped. I look up at my new owner willing her to wind me up and try again. Please oh please little girl give me that rush one more time!
“Daddy, it din come back up… I fink is broken daddy.”
“Well what do you want for a quarter baby? Just leave it if you don’t want it.”
She takes my string off her finger and tosses me on top of the machine. As she walks away I wish that I could cry, but I don’t get the chance. My small yet effective inertia carries me off the back of the machine and onto the floor where I skid out in the middle of the doorway. Last thing I think before the old lady with the carriage full of beer and instant oatmeal crushes me under a wheel is:
“It was worth it.”
I am a 25¢ yo-yo.
Written by SenseiDave (Dave H)
Edited by Brianne R