October 25, 2017
Invasion of the Corrugated Frightmares
It started off innocently. I ordered a DVD online, then a watch from China. But online shopping was so easy to do, that when the boxes started to come, they never stopped. The first boxes that arrived seemed fine enough; maybe too big, but that didn’t bother me too much. I’m not a pack rat, but I typically don’t immediately throw out shipping boxes. You never know when you might need an extra box. At least that’s what my Nana used to say.
But soon I had more boxes than things to put in them. At first, I didn’t mind the large box filled with bubble wrap and packing peanuts. But then I began to find Styrofoam in my jacket pockets, in my bathroom drawers, and even in my cereal. I thought this was unusual, but I didn’t raise any alarms. Big mistake.
I had large boxes, small boxes, and all sizes in between. I had long boxes, and short boxes; some wide and others thin. I had boxes on boxes, and they just kept coming. Was I even still ordering things? Every day I would have to cut my way through the dense forest of boxes just to get out my front door. And when I returned home there were, even more, awaiting me. The number of boxes in my apartment was increasing faster than I could throw them away.
But this is only part of my nightmare. I worked at a warehouse, and we had a large room filled with assorted sizes of corrugated boxes. It was best to avoid the room since it was more common to be buried alive than locate a box.
When I asked coworkers about the excessive amount of boxes they responded, “What boxes?” With a chill down my spine, I decided it was time to head home and lie down for a bit.
The day grew steadily worse. On my walk home, there were boxes in the dumpsters, around each bend, and down every alleyway. Were the boxes stalking me? With each step, I needed to maneuver around the bubble wrap lying about. The occasional missed step and pop worsened my anxiety. Passersby didn’t seem to notice.
My eye started to twitch, and I felt that I was going insane. I ran my hand through my hair, trying my best to calm myself down as I walked to my apartment. As I rounded the hallway corner, there was another box waiting for me. Oversized, and filled to the brim with more packing peanuts. I lost it, yelled, and swore; without thinking, I ran to open my door.
An avalanche of boxes and void filler came pouring out. I was buried alive by shipping boxes.
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