Oblividon by Gregory Harvey

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After taking a long puff, he exhaled victoriously into the car's interior.
Fuck.
What the hell was he going to do?
Reece looked towards the convenience store. It was one part of a complex which also included a bakery and a video store. Looking along the row of buildings, Reece spied something which signalled a momentary oncoming of hope. There was a machine, one of those scams with the toys and a claw to grab them with, standing in front of the bakery. Maybe if he...
Reece popped the door open again and stepped outside. All of a sudden the air felt heavy, although this he attributed only to his imagination; either that or the sense of guilt which increased with each passing second. Surely he hadn't gone so low that he was going to get his daughter a Christmas present out of something like that? But what other choice was there...
Fuck.
As there were no stores open, the area around the machine was quite dark, yet the panels were illuminated by bright, almost spasticated (or so Reece thought), lights. The large banner on top of the machine read: OBLIVIDON SKILL TESTER. What the fuck kind of name for a machine like this was Oblividon Skill Tester? Behind a solid plane of plexi-glass was a menagerie of toys. Fluffy crocodiles, bears, rabbits, turtles... You name it, this machine had it. All of the creatures bore bright, almost scarily lively, plastic eyes. Most of which seemed to be looking up at Reece. Go on, they said. Try your luck. The claw hung ominously over the stuffed toys; in fact, it reigned over them. The whole thing looked so simple...
Reece looked down. There was a small joystick, and a button, to the right of a slot for coins. The machine read, "$1 for 1 play. $2 for 3 plays." Reece took his wallet out of his pocket. Scrounging around in it, he only managed to retrieve a single, almost lonely, one dollar coin. One play it would be then. One play to win one toy for one daughter which in turn would hopefully shut up one wife.
Fuck.
As if in response to his thoughts, the machine suddenly started to play chirpy music, which sounded all together sinister in the dank and mostly silent air around the machine. Instead of enticing him to play, which Reece guessed the music was designed to do, it almost discouraged him. It almost forewarned him. A shiver went down Reece's spine.
Swallowing his fear, the man (the husband, the father, the provider, the cheat!) proceded. As he slotted his coin into the machine, it roared to life. Suddenly Reece was bombarded with a battery of flashing lights, backed up by a barrage of cheap, carnival-esque music. How was he meant to play the stupid game like this? Perhaps this was the ‘skill' part...
Reece took hold of the joystick and began to move it, getting a feel for the claw. It grinded around the roof of the machine with an almost painful squeak. Like a hawk, Reece eyed off the various pieces of prey. There was a turtle that seemed to be sticking out above all the rest. Yes, his girl would like a turtle... hopefully.
With lights and carnival-music still blurring, Reece lined the claw up over the turtle.