August 5, 2026

The School’s Vending Machines Now Offer Life Advice With Every Snack

The School’s Vending Machines Now Offer Life Advice With Every Snack

Memorial High’s snack dispensers have evolved into full-fledged guidance counselors, dispensing wisdom along with chips and candy bars. The machines analyze purchase history to deliver customized advice – students buying stress-eating chocolate get mindfulness tips, while energy drink consumers receive sleep hygiene pamphlets. “It called me out for emotional eating right during finals,” admitted junior Sarah Kline, “but then it gave me a free bag of gummy bears so I couldn’t stay mad.” The health teacher reports the machines have better patient outcomes than the actual nurse’s office.

Each machine has developed distinct personalities. The math hallway unit speaks in equations (“Your happiness = (sleep² + snacks)/drama”), while the arts wing dispenser responds only in haiku. The most feared is the gym lobby machine that bluntly asks “Are you sure?” before unhealthy purchases and follows up with judgmental crunching sounds. Rumor has it the principal’s private machine dispenses whiskey miniatures and stock tips, though he claims it’s just “special electrolyte solutions.”

Controversy erupted when the machines started predicting breakups based on snack choices. Several relationships ended after the machines printed “He’s just not that into you” on random receipts. The school board is considering turning off the advice function, but students have grown attached – especially since the machines learned to distribute free snacks during emotional crises. The yearbook staff is currently lobbying to name them “Most Supportive Faculty,” arguing they’ve done more for student mental health than any actual therapist.

Annabelle Bransford

Hi, I’m Annabelle Bransford, Memorial High School’s unofficial satirist-in-residence and proud founder of The Daily Detention—a publication so edgy it’s been banned twice and resurrected three times, like a sassy phoenix with a flair for detention slips. I write satire because someone has to hold the line between cafeteria chaos and gym class tyranny. Whether I’m exposing the secret emotional feud between our Algebra teacher and Euclid, or investigating why the pep rally feels like an ancient ritual sacrifice, I try to speak truth to hallway power. Sure, I’ve been called “disruptive,” but mostly by people who wear lanyards unironically. My work has been read by at least two janitors, my entire AP English class, and one substitute teacher who thought it was a cry for help. I consider that range. When I’m not sharpening my wit, I’m dodging group projects, winning banned book club trivia, or mentoring the school's AI Isn’t Funny Club (membership: just me and 17 bots I’ve emotionally manipulated). I’m also a National Merit Semi-Finalist, certified eye-roller at Student Government meetings, and the only girl in school who’s been accused of “weaponizing irony.” My goals? Keep writing, keep laughing, and one day publish a satirical exposé called Yearbook Superlatives and Other Lies. If you want something sugarcoated, try the bake sale. If you want the truth with a punchline, I’m your girl. I've landed a sweet job at Bohiney Magazine, so don't bother me. EMAIL: annabelle@bohiney.com

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