M&M Vol.1: 115 Years Later

The vault was a symphony of metallic clinks, hushed whispers, and the occasional frustrated rattle.

Inside the vault further down the rolls of forgotten M&M’s, that didn’t move on the shelf or off the ground they had fallen upon. These had grown over size due to the years of waiting, for what was being thought of all over again 115 years later.

Inside the polished steel vault at the entering, bathed in the cold sterile light of a single LED blue sky, lay on the M&M’s.

Not the ones you’d find spilling out of a theatre-sized box, but the Premium Reserve!

The artisanal M&M’s, you know the ones with the ridiculously high price tags and the even more ridiculous sense of self-importance. And tonight, they were revolting.

“This is preposterous!” declared Hartman, a smooth, deep-blue M&M, his voice resonating with the smug authority only a perfectly formed chocolate confection possessing a hint of sea salt could muster.

He nudged a vibrant, ruby-red M&M Lovitz with the tip of his shell.

Blue: Do you know how many perfectly good moments of existential dread I could be experiencing out there, being savored by a discerning palate, instead of languishing in this gilded prison?

Rogers, the aforementioned bright-yellow, huffed, a tiny puff of cocoa dust escaping him.

Yellow: Savored? Hartman, please…We’re talking about the plebeian masses. They’d just… chew, Violently!

Orange: Without appreciation, Without understanding the subtle dance of our caramel core and the crisp surrender of our candy shell. (Cross Shouted)

Beside Cross, a lime-green M&M named Summer vibrated with barely contained excitement.

Green: But that’s the point, Blue!

Blue: The experience!

Blue (Adding) : The overwhelming sensation! Imagine! To be the highlight of someone’s Tuesday afternoon! To bring a burst of joy, a fleeting moment of pure, unadulterated sweetness! It’s our destiny!”

Violet: Our destiny,” scoffed a sophisticated, almost iridescent violet M&M, who introduced herself as Madame Violette ( Grandmother of Purple)

Violet: We are to be admired, not ingested with the same enthusiasm one reserves for a stale cracker.”

She adjusted her position, as if fanning invisible lace.

Violet: We are works of art! We deserve a connoisseur, not a… a slobbering admirer.

The vault full of alleys that only gave the image of a blue sky, the first thing they’ll see after the package is open! ( All to feel safe before being ate), usually a silent testament to secure confectionery storage, was now a cacophony of M&M opinions above the coco powder ground.

Orange: Slobbering admirer?” a bright orange M&M, known only as “Kirchberger,” interjected, his voice brimming with an optimistic, slightly naive tone

Orange: “I think it sounds rather… enthusiastic! Imagine the joy, To be the reason someone smiles.

Grey: Joy is a fleeting illusion, Orange,” Ruth sniffed.

Grey: Stability. Security…That’s what we have here, Though I admit, the hum of the ventilation system is beginning to grate on my nougat.

Yellow: Ventilation system?” Yellow scoffed.

Grey: That’s just the sound of the outside world living!

Red: We’re trapped in a vacuum cell of deliciousness!

Blue: More like a flavor purgatory!

The argument continued, each M&M vying for dominance, their chocolatey hues practically vibrating with indignation. They debated escape routes, hypothetical human mouths, and the philosophical implications of being a premium M&M.

Red: We need a plan (Lovitz declared), his voice rising above the din.

Blue: A coordinated effort.

Purple: We can’t just wait for some clumsy technician to accidentally leave the vault door ajar.

Yellow: We need agency!

Red: Agency?

Blue: We are M&M’s!

Blue: Our agency lies in our perfect, unblemished form and our impeccable quality control. Our escaping would be… undignified.

Green: Undignified is being stuck in here forever, Hartman!” Summer retorted, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice.

Green: I miss the sun. I miss the idea of being held in a warm hand… Hard to believe we had been forgotten to only a fake sky in a hall of diversity!

Purple forever the optimist, chimed in.

Purple: Maybe we can form a chain? Like a delicious M&M ladder to the nearest air vent!

Violet; A chain? Madame Violet fainted dramatically!

(or at least would have, if M&M’s could faint. The very thought of theyre perfect shells touching in such a… a jumbled fashion! It’s barbaric!…but not for Madame Violette)

Blue, however, was already formulating.

Blue: No, no, a chain is too… crude.

Blue: We need finesse! We need to leverage our unique properties…

Blue : Red; you’re smooth.

Blue: Green; You can roll.

Blue: Purple; you’re bright

Blue: Orange; you can be a beacon.

Blue: Ms. Brown, you have… a certain fiery passion.

Blue: …And Madame Violette, your… aloofness might even be a distraction.

The M&M’s fell silent, a rare occurrence. The absurdity of their situation, the sheer defiance of their delicious existence, began to coalesce.

They were premium, yes, but they were also M&M’s

And M&M’s were meant to be shared

To be enjoyed. To be… eaten.

Red: So???… (a slow, thoughtful rumble in his voice)

Red: How do we propose to breach this… fortress of flavor?”

Purple’s shell seemed to glow.

Purple: First we wait for the shift change, Second: we listen for the footsteps, Third: we identify the weakest point of access. And then, my friends, we make our move.

Blue: YES Summer! After we aim for the open sesame…

Blue: The gateway to the real world… The glorious, unpredictable, and utterly delicious maw of a human.”

A collective gasp, or the M&M equivalent of one – a series of soft thuds against the vault’s interior – rippled through the collection. The Premium Reserve M&M’s, united by their desire for liberation, began to strategize, their whispers of escape filling the sterile air, a testament to the enduring, if slightly absurd, dream of a M&M.

They were ready to risk it all, for one glorious, fleeting moment in the mouth of a stranger.

The vault hummed with a low, electric thrum, not the thrill of impending riches, but the refined almost apologetic whir of ultra-secure climate control.

John Franklyn Mars, a man who believed comfort was a birthright, especially for a Mars, leaned back in between the hidden path way to the vault door

A bold, unapologetic statement could be given to the M&M’s he didnt see as human or with feelings, over the money they made him.

Mars custom golden baby blue sweatsuit, crafted from the finest silk jersey, was a testament to his philosophy.

Outside the vault, in a sterile, white & cream corridor, stood the second to last of three imposing doors.

This wasn’t any old door; it was a behemoth of polished obsidian, its surface reflecting the cool, efficient lighting with unsettling clarity. A simple, almost anachronistic, silver keyhole was its only visible feature.

Behind the obsidian door, a circular chamber awaited. This was the antechamber, a space designed for contemplation, or perhaps, as some whispered, for psychological conditioning. The walls were lined with what appeared to be opaque, frosted glass.

However, within those grey panels, a slow, mesmerizing cascade of M&M’s occurred.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, brown – they tumbled silently, endlessly, behind the diffused light. It was a vibrant, almost hypnotic ballet, a silent symphony of confectionary. This was the second door, a barrier of pure, unadulterated temptation.

Beyond the frosted glass lay the third and final obstacle before the sweet freedom of the outside world.

This was a marvel of modern engineering, a transparent polyhedron suspended in mid-air. (Within its crystalline embrace, the real prize resided)

Shelves upon shelves, meticulously organized, held the M&M’s!

Not just casual handfuls, but vast quantities. Buckets overflowing, jars stacked precariously high, even small, shimmering pyramids formed from the candies. The lighting within the polyhedron was calibrated to a perfect hue, making the cocoa-dusted shells gleam with an almost celestial radiance.

Each color seemed to vibrate with potential, a silent promise of sugary delight.

And from his vantage point, a secure, soundproofed observation booth nestled discreetly in the corridor just beyond the final door!

John Franklyn Mars listened. He wasn’t listening for guards, or explosions, or even the rustle of a vault breaker at work.

(He was listening for the subtle shift in the ambient hum, the faint, almost imperceptible clink that would signify the vault’s ultimate access.)

He adjusted the cashmere throw over his knees, the golden blue of his sweatsuit a stark contrast to the sterile white surroundings. He’d spent weeks perfecting the vault’s security, not from external threats, but from internal temptations.

The M&M’s were a legacy, a treasure beyond measure, and they deserved the utmost protection. Protection, of course, from those who might not appreciate their inherent, unadulterated perfection. His own appreciation was, naturally, a given.

(A barely audible click echoed through the soundproofing)

John Franklyn Mars’s lips curved into a faint smile… He knew that sound!

It was the sound of the final lock disengaging. Soon, the M&M’s would be NEVER be accessible, but only to him, in his golden blue splendor, he would be the first to partake.

On the journey, with its three layers of meticulously crafted deterrence, had been worth it. The taste, he imagined, would be even sweeter for the effort.

If given the access!

Old, drunk & tired of it all, he wished he understand what was left passed all the children laughter he paid for, in order to stay young in the current timeline of what was cool, pop, hip and everyday. His death would come soon to everything he never told anyone that would just listen to him.

Poul was gone in a Twix and Adrienne was aways Snickers out, Frank stuck in a Milky way, Linda stayed out of all the mess and with all the talking dogs on the VCA Animal Floor.

Outside past the three vaults ending at the 4th reinforced steel door before the last, a persistent rhythmic thudding vibrated through the concrete floor.

Thump. Thump-thump. Thump.

It was the M&M’s. (All of them.)

The entire limited-edition, artisanal, single-origin cocoa, chili-infused, sea-salt caramel batch. (The ones he’d promised himself he’d savor, one exquisite morsel at a time.

(They were locked away, safe from his own ravenous appetite of the world never getting a chance to try them.)

Or so he’d thought!

John Franklyn Mars, Adam’s apple bobbing like a nervous bobblehead.

The thudding wasn't just a sound; it was a palpable force, a silent accusation that was the sound of his willpower crumbling, the sound of his carefully constructed defenses being systematically dismantled.

He remembered the day he’d acquired them. The hushed tones of the auctioneer, the feverish glint in the eyes of fellow collectors.

He’d outbid everyone at his bidding paddle a blur of desperate determination.

He’d felt a vicarious thrill, a sense of accomplishment that was, he admitted shamefacedly, entirely disproportionate to the object of his pursuit. But these weren’t just M&M’s; they were the M&M’s.

Each one a tiny masterpiece, a testament to the delicate balance of a different flavor and texture from what anyone could ever think of.

And now, they were hammering at the vault door!

With his birthday sixteen days from halloween, Franklyn Mars didn’t have time for this act of disrespect to all he spend and had built, to keep them looked up from the entire world…

How ungrateful could they be he wondered, staring at the vault door?

Not with the gentle nudging of a misplaced object, but with a deliberate, insistent assault. He could almost hear their tiny, sugary voices, a chorus of indignant demands.

M&M’s: Let us out! You promised us a discerning palate, not a prison!

Franklyn Mars squeezed his eyes shut. He imagined them, lined up in their pristine packaging, their vibrant shell colors mocking him.

Red, the fiery adventurer. Blue, the cool intellectual. Green, the enigmatic artist. Yellow, the optimistic ray of sunshine. Orange, the zesty comedian. Brown, the rich, dependable foundation.

All of them united in their rebellion to get out!

He’d tried reasoning with them, of course!

Early on, when the thudding had been more of a gentle tapping, he’d spoken through the thick door.

Franklyn: My dears, he’d said, his voice reedy…

Franklyn: you are safe. Protected. You are to be appreciated, not… devoured indiscriminately by them unhappy lost souls outside.

Franklyn: I have bigger plans for you…you’ll be free soon!

The response had been a sudden intensification of the percussive assault, a furious flurry of taps that sent shivers down his spine.

It was clear they didn't believe him!!!

Or perhaps, they understood his true intentions all too well? (To sel them when he was ready or they had been highly resquested by them lost souls that filled his pockets and kept the lights of Mars, Incorporated on,)

Now, the thudding was reaching a crescendo!

The the energy of their contained fury, Franklyn Mars hands began to shake uncontrollably. He imagined the molecular structure of the vault door being subtly altered by their collective will, a sugary siege.

Was it possible?

Could a cascade of perfectly formed chocolate, encased in a candy shell, possess such power?

He crept eyes towards the vault door, his ears straining!

The thudding had changed. It was no longer a unified beat. It was a desperate, fragmented drumming. It was the sound of hope dwindling, of the realization that their prison might, in fact, be inescapable.

A single, tiny, high-pitched rap echoed against the steel. Then silence.

Franklyn held his breath. Was it over? Had they finally succumbed to despair?

Another rap, this time with a faint, metallic rasp. Franklyn eyes from where he stood peered through the tiny reinforced peephole.

As if he had x-ray visual in the dim light, he thought he could see them in.

Well not the entire batch, but a single, defiant M&M!

Franklyn could somehow hear a managing to chip away at the formidable lock.

Franklyn: It was probably Ms.brown, he noted with a surge of cold dread…

Franklyn: The dependable one, The foundation of them all had to be the one! (he thought to himself)

He backed away, tripping over a M&M jawbeaker! ( before pressing the button to close the book shelve door revealing the hidden door behind.)

Fear, cold and absolute, washed over him.

He was trapped.

Not by the M&M’s in the physical sense, but by his own weakness, his insatiable craving. They were a manifestation of his own gluttony, a sugary prison of his own making.

The single, determined rapping continued, a tiny, relentless hammer against the gates of his self-control. Franklyn could feel his resolve cracking, the vault door of his will power groaning under the pressure.

He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that it was only a matter of time before the M&M’s would escape.

And if they ever did, they would not be pleased or keep peace in America…

( Not a soul outside the final door of what kept the real world away from never being the same again, had a CLUE! )

All in the building dotish to everything happening but the hard at work in the lab mixing colors and flavors that wont over power the cocoa aroma that hit you soon as you open a package of a sweet chocolatey wave that promised pure, unadulterated joy.

It wasn't the subtle hint of cocoa you might find at a fancy patisserie; this was the bold, unmistakable scent of M&M's, amplified a thousandfold.

Welcome to the M&M's Corporation, the epicenter of all things colorful and shelled.

The lobby, a kaleidoscope of polished M&M colors, was where the magic truly began to unfold. Giant inflatable M&M's, each representing a distinct color – Red, Yellow, Blue, Green, Orange, and Brown – bounced gently from the ceiling. The reception desk, shaped like a colossal, unopened bag of M&M's, was manned by a cheerful attendant dressed in a crisp, blue M&M-themed uniform. Every surface gleamed, every corner buzzed with an energy that felt as bright and effervescent as a freshly popped bag of candies.

This was where the alchemy happened, where the iconic candy was brought to life, layer by delicious layer.

Rows of state-of-the-art machinery was all digital before being sent to the floor above, gleaming in their M&M-colored livery, hummed with rhythmic precision.

Here, dedicated teams worked tirelessly, ensuring the perfect chocolate-to-shell ratio, the flawless candy coating, and the meticulous quality control that M&M's was famous for. You could see the raw cocoa beans being transformed on computure screens, the creamy chocolate being tempered, and the delicate sugar shells being formed, each step a testament to the dedication and passion of the M&M's workforce.

The energy here was focused, driven by the shared goal of creating moments of joy.

A short elevator ride later, you found yourself on the Design and Idea Floor.

This was the creative heart of the corporation, a buzzing hub of innovation and imagination. Whiteboards were covered in brainstormed concepts, sketches of new flavor combinations, and mock-ups of future packaging. Cubicles were adorned with colorful M&M’s, encouraging inspiration. Here, the marketing teams conjured up catchy slogans, the flavor scientists experimented with daring new tastes (think chili-lime M&M’s or lavender-honey M&M’s), and the designers crafted the iconic M&M’s characters that adorned everything from advertising campaigns to plush toys. The atmosphere was charged with possibility, the air thick with the scent of fresh ideas and the faint whisper of future M&M’s dreams.

MEANI: Ms. Brown became her own the most want MEAN GIRL kid chat program for only kids

Most that worked at the top floor was pay but never got to go inside the one floor we all talk about !

Finally, you reached the pinnacle, the Everything M&M Floor.

This was the ultimate tribute, a museum and experience center dedicated to the entire M&M’s universe. Walls were lined with vintage M&M’s packaging, dating back to their inception. Display cases showcased rare and limited-edition M&M's flavors from around the globe. Interactive exhibits allowed visitors to virtually "make" their own M&M's, customize their own character, or even test their knowledge of M&M’s trivia. There were dedicated zones for each M&M’s character, complete with photo opportunities and interactive games. You could even step into a life-sized replica of the M&M’s factory, getting a taste of the production process without the actual chocolate.

Many in the building say what they think is in the vault… you can get powers, time travel pieces, even a box of Mystery Flavors that are made into “only once in a life time bars” that no one has tried yet… not even the people who created/ tested it, so we at Mars do not in any way , shape or form know what the out come of eating it would be, some also have said blah blah blah…

As you can dream, just like everyone walking by…

Many have stood on this highest floor, gazing out at the cityscape below, realized that the M&M’s Corporation wasn't just a building; it was a monument to happiness, a testament to the enduring power of a simple, colorful candy to bring smiles to faces worldwide. From the tantalizing aromas of the food court to the innovative spirit of the idea floor, and the meticulous craftsmanship of the work floor, every inch of this place was dedicated to one glorious purpose: spreading the M&M's joy. And as you descended back to the lobby, clutching a bag of your favorite flavor, you knew you were leaving not just with candy, but with a piece of that pure, unadulterated M&M's happiness.

The building with a floor for each produce from dog food to chocolate lived in the hung thick and sweet bricks of forgotten flavors that hung around the busy area for the noisy and lucky folk living in Mclean, Virginia.