- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Bar-code
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The tube of sweets came off the conveyor belt resplendent in it’s wrapping of Blue, Red and Yellow. Prominent on its side was a Black on White bar-code.
How proud it felt. So quickly must somebody wish to purchase it. It couldn’t wait to have its bar-code swiped.
It looked around at the other tubes. Some of their bar-codes were creased or torn. But it’s was perfect. It was the best by far.
It didn’t really mind when it was placed in a box with the other tubes, it knew it was the best.
Its confidence wasn’t even shaken when it was placed on a shelf in the store and other tubes were placed upon it.
It knew it was the best.
It watched as the other tubes were taken to be scanned and sold. Surely it would soon be its turn then all would see it had the best bar-code.
At last the day came. A hand descended. It was picked up, along with another tube and taken to the till.
It watched as the first tube was scanned. Now it was its turn.
Wait.
The first tube was being scanned a second time.
No! No!
It disappeared into a bag.
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