The Prodigal Power Bars

This is a story of the power bars. Around two years ago, my brother, Ben, was in leadership, in high school. He was also in cross-country. He did some event or thing, something for one of the mentioned extracurricular activities and, anyways, he brought home these power bars from school. They tasted disgusting, but they were supposed to be full of energy. Ben kept these things in his room. I don't know whether he thought he would eat them or whether he just wanted to have them around or what, but he did keep them. When he shipped off for college, the power bars got put in his closet. And there they have sat, so docilely, for two years, until a few weeks ago. We had to get into Ben's closet and they got taken out. So just imagine: a box of twenty-something power bars. They lived the high life in the high school, were surrounded by hungry teenagers. They were full of energy, what is more appealing. Wow. They were the bomb. Then. Then they got taken to a house. They sat in a box, all day, every day. Their numbers did not diminish. There was no hope for them. They just sat there. Then they get shoved in the closet, in the dark, for a year and a half. Ben comes home on vacation, probably doesn't eat any. Probably doesn't give them a second thought. (And who can blame him?) They suffer tremendous disappointment. No one cares about them. Even if anyone knew about their sorry existence, no one would care about them. That hurts them. Finally, they get taken out of the closet. Okay? That's intense. Now back to the present. I'm in a video class, at school, and my group is making a video about a magical power bar. So, when we started filming (if you want to call it that) we needed a power bar prop. I passed by Ben's room after school and there it is: A giant box of power bars. So I take, like, 5 to school. And there it is! The power bars finally came home to their first home: high school. Oh, the glory days. Now, they don't taste good at all, but, some things just don't change. They expired a year ago. But someone in my class still ate a part of one. And then spit it out into the garbage. And whenever we have to open up a power bar, it smells like an antique. I don't think the power bars notice the revulsion with which they are looked upon. To them, its being back amongst teenagers that really makes them happy. I guess the Power Bars give us a hope that really, you are never too old, or expired to return to the good times.
Note: These power bars aren't really prodigal, because, at no point in their lives have they actually been prodigal, but their story is somewhat similar to the story of the Prodigal son, from the Bible, you know. The power bars leave their home, have a rough time, then come home, like the son. So that's why I call them prodigal, even if they aren't.