I, Bean.

There I was, trotting up and down the stairs with baskets of dirty laundry and clean laundry, vacuuming, doing random household stuff. I was passing by the dining room table for the 194th time that day, minding my own business, when I decided that I just couldn't take the insolent taunting of this saucy bastard one more second:


This device is coin-operated, so I popped the first coin I found (a quarter) into the little slot and twisted the knob. For three crappy jelly beans. Was I being mocked? I pumped a whole quarter in there!! I needed a better solution.



AHA!! I'll screw open the top! Sure, these jelly beans are from sometime before last Easter. And sure, they don't really belong to me. I say, if that 12 year old doesn't properly appreciate the quality of perfectly good 18-month old Jelly Bellies, they are so up for grabs.



Success! Now to tip it over and retrieve the delicious goodness...



Ohnos! The bottom of this thing comes off too! Change and beans everywhere! I'm so busted! (The cats think I am awesome and have done this just for them, btw.)



It's ok. I'll do the time. It was totally worth it.