Jeff waited near the bottom of the pile to be sold. He wasn't sure he'd be able to move once he was, but at least he'd have a change of scenery!
After about three days, someone scooped the other NAVY SEALS off the top of him and held them up. "Huh, nice. Might be worth something someday," he mused. He grabbed the last five, which included Jeff, and tossed them in the cart.
Jeff was passed over the scanner and into a bag, and whisked out of the toy store. He wondered what would happen now. He felt like at least a few weeks had passed and his mind and senses seemed to be working normally. Once he was out of the package, he'd have to work at moving again.
The car stopped and he was carried into an apartment and pulled out of the bag. Jeff realized quickly that he was in trouble. The apartment was sparsely furnished, but it was wall to wall collectibles of all types, but mostly toys. Most were still in original packaging.
The young man who had bought him picked him up, then carefully removed the price tag, and smiled, "Only 3 bucks. You'd be worth more than that right now on Ebay, I think. But in a couple years you might be collectible."
Jeff and his four duplicates were shuffled around the apartment a few times, first just sitting in a pile on an unused kitchen table before getting moved into an unused bedroom. Jeff lost count of the days trapped in his package after a few weeks. Even his new owner didn't come into the room much, so his only entertainment was to watch the sun cast shadows through the partially closed mini-blinds.
The owner came into the room after a while, and to his horror, Jeff was packed into a dark plastic bin which sealed with a click. He felt himself get moved again before hearing the muffled closeing of the closet door.
Jeff was now lost, alone and in the dark. He had tried to escape countless times but he wasn't sure that he could move anymore. Even if he could, the hard plastic clamshell was too strong for his tiny body. He tried to lose himself, tried to will the last of the transformation into a toy, but couldn't. After a time, he started to think perhaps he had been willed into a toy, with no senses of anything anymore. The only thing that betrayed that was the occasional sounds from beyond the box of the closed door opening and closing, the muffled music he heard once in a while, the jostling of the box that made his plastic heart leap at the prospect of getting out and seeing something again.
The box top opened once, briefly, but so quickly that he didn't see much beyond a flash of light. He was moved a lot that time, and felt the vibration of a truck. Was the owner moving?
It didn't matter. He was placed back into a quiet place, again. Time kept passing. He wondered often how much time had passed. He was sure it was years, that he'd been now through at least two moves with his owner. At this point, he was long passed the point of caring.