If I may take a moment of your time: Imagine, if you will, a massive box--say, 25 by 36. You receive this box on your doorstep from UPS one morning. You find this odd because one of two things has occured: A. You didnt order anything; or B. You were drunk and began an online shopping spree that resulted in your Visa or American Express leaping off a high rise in the middle of Manhattan. Anyway, you stumble as you awkwardly try to bring this cardboard monstrosity inside the house. You suddenly almost take a spill from the tip of your shoe hitting the top porch step wrong. After regaining your composure (or rather, whats left of it), you slam the container on your living room table you just had waxed last Monday. Now, the feeling of curiosity has returned. Whats in it? you ponder; Where did it come from? Theres only one way to find out, you think to yourself as you put your hands on your hips. You then find yourself scrambling in the kitchen utensil drawer for a sharp knife. Nothing there. You give yourself a second assignment to locate either a pair of scissors or that plastic box cutter you just so happened to have borrowed from work the night before. Dont worry; the bosses wont know its gone. Finally, after locating the damn thing under a pile of loose buttons, dirty pennies, and dust, you walk back to the living room. Slowly, as to not possibly damage what is inside this large mysterious cube, you slice straight across the top flaps through the think layers of packing tape. Instead of taking time to do the same to the sides of the lid, you decide to use your strength to rip it open the rest of the way. There, within this case, is a pile of foam peanuts. Theyre the type of peanuts that squeak when rubbed, making the teeth on the inside of your jaw line slightly buzz. Running your tongue over the molars and canines to bring back feeling, you make the logical maneuver of diving arms first into the sea of foam pieces. I mean, theres got to be *something* in there. But you dig and you dig, not finding a thing. At this point, you are practically burrowing through the mound like a gopher, spilling the peanuts on the fresh living room carpet. Frustration has clouded over all sense. This just cant be an empty box. Theres got to be something there at the bottom! You continue your excavation. At last--after what seems like an hour--you find a tiny golden egg, no bigger than your thumb. Absolutely marvelous! you exclaim as you balance it between your fingers to the light. You notice that there is a small hinge on one side, obviously suggesting that this thing can open up. Totally ignoring the mess you made earlier, you ever so meticulously lift open the top, careful as to not snap it from its hinge. Suddenly, your eyes widen once they see what is in this tiny Russian egg; your mouth curls in absolute disgust. Your stomach retches as you gag at the back of your throat. You dont even want to admit what it is its so disgusting; but alas, the truth has come to light. For there, stuffed into that seemingly insignificant egg is a vile of dog crap. All your time has been wasted on...on *this*. You throw it back in the box and dash away to the kitchen feeling like you are going to upchuck your lunch. You swear you can almost *taste* the nauseating stench. One thing that can only relieve you is the bottle of Jack Daniels youve been saving. In total panic, you chug that sucker down, hoping that the intoxicating elixir will numb out the memory and smell of feces. That is what it is like watching some of the movies I own. What is wrong with me? XD
Posted on: Sun, 07 Sep 2014 08:29:59 +0000
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