*channels British accent*
'Welcome back to the next installment of Rescued from THE BOX, where a half-insane card collector acts as though cardboard boxes and baseball cards are alive and sentient, and hallucinates action-packed battle scenes with said cardboard box.'
Last time I saw THE BOX I freed Rafael Montalvo's 1991 Bowman card. The mission of freeing every card from a life of mediocrity is a slow one, but one worth undertaking.
THE BOX contented itself with making a mess of the room I keep all my cards in. That definitely has nothing to do with me. In fact, when I walked into the room my eyes disintegrated and fell in two small powdered piles on the floor. THE BOX's first attack was successful.
Thankfully, eyeballs grow back, and I was able to see THE BOX as it lunged at me. Since it has no means of propulsion, it was an awkward fall.
My laugh may have sounded too confident as I tried in vain to humiliate my foe. THE BOX has no emotions, as I found out. We rumbled the way comic book superheroes do with their arch-nemeses. Whenever a hit was landed giant words magically popped up, such as 'BANG!' and 'POW!'
Eventually, human limbs triumphed over cardboard edges and I wrenched open THE BOX's black hole-like maw and pulled a card out before it clamped upon my arm. The paper cut was so deep I had to make a tourniquet with a shirt that was lying on the floor. Who knew cardboard could be so deadly?
After I had taken care of my battle wounds, I saw the card that had been rescued.
Back-to-back Angels rescued, nice!
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