The Debit monster

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I was going to a strip club, which meant I was going to require cash, Requiring cash meant conquering a serious fear of mine. A childhood fear that stemmed from something my grandmother used to say. Whenever I would pass a debit machine with her she would tell me to stay away from them. She said the debit monster could get me.

Seeing the hundreds of people who approached them daily sort of made me think she was lying. They would just walk up, pop in their card, collect their cash as it spilled out, and walk away unscathed. Seeing these people get their money unharmed put me slightly at ease about it, but I still didn’t like the thought.

I always avoided activities that required any amount of actual cash. Unless I could go into a bank and talk to an actual human, that is. Banks are only open during certain hours though, so the time had come to conquer my fear.

I was going to do this. I was going to do this. Maybe I could also get over my slight resentment of my grandmother while I was at it. I never liked being spanked with a wooden spoon as a child. She was kind of an old hag sometimes.

The hour was approaching. I ran to the door, pushing apart the glass that lead into my own personal Hell. I approached the dreaded box and shakily inserted my card after digging through my pockets to find my seventh grade wallet.

I waited and suddenly heard an absolutely horrifying sound. “CRUNCH! CRUNCH! MUNCH!” I then heard a faint whispering and leaned towards the machine. “I’m gonna crunch! I’m gonna munch! I’m gonna eat your cash!” I staggered back and heard a quiet clattering as my card hit the tile floor. I then saw something horrifying.

The most disgustingly long fingers oozed out of the slot after it. They had horribly elongated claws painted a puke green colour. Each one had a little yellow dollar sign painted on the top of it.

I quickly leaned down, snatched up my card, and ran out the doors to my car. After a brief moment in the parking lot I made up my mind. I sped out, already knowing my destination. Withing 10 minutes I was there.

I ran to my grandmothers front door and rang the bell. After a few seconds I heard her shuffling around to answer it. The door soon began to creak open then it happened. Her hand snaked around the frame and the nightmare became worse. Her nails were horrendously long and puke green. Upon seeing the little yellow dollar sign on each one, I ran and haven’t looked back since.

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