Monetary Value
Up, up—spin! Spin! Spin!—Down, down, slap on the wrist.
Up, up—spin! Spin! Spin!—Down, down, slap on the wrist.
Up, up—spin! Spin! Spin
This was so boring.
Master got to have all the fun.
Master got to do all the interesting work and what did he get to do? Just spin up in the air and flip around until he was sick to his little metallic stomach.
The Coin dropped back down—again—and landed on tails. He saw the beginnings of a bank robbery his master was conducting before he was shoved back into the pocket. This was boring. He was used time and time again—he had everything from blood to dirty money on his hands—and yet, he still felt like he just stepped out of the mint. He could still remember being engraved . . . Wild screams soon rained down from up above as nickels, dimes, pennies, and quarters came spilling into Master's pocket.
"Hey, it's dark in here!" yelled a quarter.
"Get your nose off my tail!"
"I can't find Mary—where's Mary?"
"I'm over here!"
"Where?"
"This pocket smells funny. When's the last time this guy washed his jeans?"
The Coin smiled. Company! He couldn't remember the last time he'd had company.
"Hey, everybody, can I have your attention, please?" he shouted and all the panicky coins quieted. "Look, here's the gist: You've just become the property of an insane, two-faced—literally—criminal who used to be the D.A. of this great city. I'm the one who decides the fates of hundreds of people he meets every day—and I'm bored out of my mind."
There was a long pause.
"We have to get out of here!" screamed a dime as she feverishly began shoving against the side of the pocket.
Whilst all the coins began to follow her example, The Coin quietly slipped to his side of the pocket. There had been a tear in its seam he had known about for weeks and now, with other coins besides him in the pocket, he could sneak out and be on the streets long before Master noticed he was gone. With a smile, he slipped through the hole and dropped onto the sunshine-lit sidewalk.
#
He never knew there were so many smells out there! Exhaust from cars, food in dumpsters, women's perfume, food being made in cafes . . . He didn't know why Master was so cranky all the time when there was all this great stuff out in the world. Casually rolling down the street, The Coin did his best to make the mouth of the face engraved in him smile. This was a happy day. It was a beautiful day.
He wondered if the other side of the street was this nice. He looked across the street. It looked exactly the same as the side he was on now, but he still wanted to see it, anyway. There was just one problem—the crazy road of zooming cars that stood in his way. The Coin glanced up and down the street, trying to analyze the situation. He began to notice a pattern—the cars seemed to be obeying the commands of this giant, three-eyed being hanging from a lamppost.
Each of the creature's eyes was a different color—the first was red, the middle one yellow, and the last one green. When he blinked his red eye, the cars stopped. The Coin knew if he could negotiate with this three-eyed thing he could get across the street safely. He rolled over to the curb and looked up at the three-eyed creature.
"Um, excuse me, Mr. Three-Eyed Giant?" The Coin yelled above the roaring traffic. "Yeah, I'm trying to get across the street, so I was wondering if you could just blink your red eye for a really long time—it takes a lot longer for me to move since I don't have legs. Anyway, do you think you could do that? I'd really appreciate it."
There was no answer from the three-eyed creature.
"Please?" begged The Coin.
Still no answer. The Coin frowned. He was about to ask again when something kicked him from behind and he was flung forward into the middle of the street. A car came whizzing by and nearly squashed him. Quickly rolling through the wild maze of cars, The Coin arrived safely on the other side of the street. He began to roll towards a bakery.
#
"Hey, guys!" Mary yelled, "I found a rip in the lining!"
"Yea!" cheered all the other coins.
Everyone started rolling towards the hole, but before anyone could escape, they heard the voice of their captor shouting something to a hotdog vendor he had apparently met on the street.
"Five dollars and ninety-five cents for a hotdog? That's ridiculous!" Harvey "Two-Face" Dent was shouting. "Look, buddy, I expect to be able to fill my stomach with clearly non-nutritious meat byproducts for at least under three dollars."
"Um, sir—," the terrified hotdog vendor tried to cut in.
"Don't interrupt me. Heads says you give me the hotdog for free, tails says I just take it from you anyway . . . and either way, I expect it to be drowning in ketchup."
All the coins madly scurried to get out of the way as a hand shoved down into the pocket. For a moment, the hand felt around, first casually, and then in a more panicky tone. The hand withdrew and they all heard Two-Face's voice again.
"Um . . . can you excuse me for a minute, please? "
He stepped away from the hotdog stand. The hand came back into the pocket, thrust around wildly for a minute, then, the coins heard his voice scream,
"Where is it?"