THE BOX hadn't shown its hideous face in my house for over three months. Thinking of all the cards still being held captive by its evil clutches ignited my desire to seek out THE BOX and free some cards myself.
The journey was long and perilous. When a cardboard box doesn't want to be found, it makes things very difficult for its seeker. Their camouflage is unmatched.
Eventually I came across what appeared to be THE BOX's lair. I surveyed my surroundings carefully. Now I was on THE BOX's turf, and surely things would different from our previous battles. However, this doesn't change the fact that it's man versus cardboard box. Or so I thought...
As soon as I entered the lair a swarm of boxes came at me. It took much coordination to avoid being struck by them. As I stood, ever so proud myself, I let my guard down. And that's when THE BOX struck.
Let me tell you, being hit in the head by a box full of around 600 baseball cards doesn't feel all too good, especially when you don't want to hit it back for fear of dinging the corners of its hostages. Though disoriented and with a lump on my head, the cries of hundreds of prisoners brought me back into the moment. I leapt back into the fray.
Through a slurry of paper cuts I was able to leap on THE BOX, and using strength gained only through adrenaline, I opened the mouth of THE BOX. I grabbed a single card before its jaws snapped shut like a mousetrap. My hand barely escaped dismemberment.
I jumped off THE BOX and ran as fast as my legs could carry me out of its lair. I was being pursued by many of THE BOX's cronies, which were surprisingly quick considering how they lack limbs and aerodynamics.
Maybe their poor properties were what allowed me to escape, but at any rate, here I am writing this post. After taking a second to rest, I looked into my hand and saw no other than....
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