Numerical Palindromes and the Aquatic Unicorn

Who would have ever thought that a simple water fountain could become a source of contention and animosity in a workplace of grown men? It seems odd, but one has indeed become the center of a strange competition nexus at my place of work, and the end of civilized life as we know it. On the first day of it's installation, it was a water fountain like any other. Stainless bowl, filtered water, but what is that strange glowing display? A counter? Nice. You see, this fountain was designed to dispense not only from the goose-necked spout designed for direct oral hydration, but also from a downward facing spicket meant to fill reusable water containers. The green backlit display affixed to the front of it touted proudly the number of plastic water bottles that it has displaced from landfills. Little did we know, it was really the steely-eyed face of a quietly lurking Green Eyed Monster.

"I'm number 100, bitches! Read 'em and weep! Centennial water tastes soooo good!". And that's where the problem started. "111! Trips. Eat it, muh-fuggahs!". "121. You ain't never tasted water like numerical palindrome water!". And so that was the game, fighting over any number you could make sound significant. I mean, literally fighting over a water counter. Throwing bo's and knocking water bottles out of other grown men's hands for the chance at some flavorful numerical palindrome water. It was all soon to boil over however, for the chance at a numerical triple double was too great to resist, even for the most Qauker-like passive resistance type dudes.

On this fateful day, the machine was rolled to an insignificant 998 by a Muggle, an innocent bystander in the heated battle of the water counter. My mind instantly reeled with the possibilities. "Oh, yes" I said to myself as I furrowed and unfurrowed my brow like a cartoon villain "I am about to taste of the most victorious set of numbers to ever tick sequentially across this stupid display." 999. Trips. 1000. First to beak 1000. 1001. Numerical palindrome. It was the fabled trifecta. The aquatic unicorn that every player in this makeshift game has been waiting for. But it was I who would hold the honor. Or would I?

I don't know if it was the fact that I ran to my water bottle and speed walked to the water fountain or my trembling hand that gave away the fact that huge numbers were about to be played but the sharks smelled blood in the water and they sprung into action. The sound of wrenches hitting the deck alerted me to the fact that a counter attack was underway. I was shoved to the side as I reached longingly for the fountain and another player approached the machine. A team effort. Dammit. I picked and rolled, and tried to juke my way to an offensive attack on the offending players. It was all in vain. I watched from a distance as the numbers rolled by. 999. Trips gone. 1000. Gone. 1001. Numerical palindrome gone. The unicorn had been slayed, and I didn't even get a taste. Fucking jackals.