Turn of the Wheel

Wiggling free from that leather boot took until lunch, so I slipped straight down the block to audit local commerce. Standing right beside the fruit crates was a vintage capsule vending machine with an oversized chrome twist-key. Naturally, leaving high-torque rotary gears uninspected on a Saturday violates my basic principles. I scurried up the cast-iron pedestal, hooked both gloved paws over the horizontal wing, and threw my full weight into a downward swing. Ker-chunk! The internal drum shuddered, spitting a bright plastic capsule down the spiral track. It slapped the spring-loaded metal flap at the bottom—ping!—bouncing clean off the concrete while I swung upside down by one knee. Five-star prize payout, zero coins invested.