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You're in a dark place - you feel tightly wound - then you hear music

added 10 years ago I O

You are plunged into darkness. You cannot speak. You cannot move. The ceiling pushes down on your head. Your
head seems to have been smashed down into your crotch. You are so wound up, but are unable to relieve the
tension. Then you hear some tinny music playing.

"All around the mulberry bush the monkey chased the weasel," come the words to the tune from a distant
childhood memory.

"Pop goes the weasel!"

BOING.

The music stops, and the ceiling swings back. You spring upward into the light. A giant looms over you. It
takes a minute due to the change in perspective to realize that the giant is the same little man in the
striped shirt who shoved you into that box, except he's like 40 times bigger than before - at least compared
to you. You bounce helplessly and glance around the giant toy store.

"There you go! A handsome new jack-in-the-box for some boy or girl. You will bring them joy, and nightmares
to those around them. I do so love my job. Transformers indeed. I'm sure your nephew will really enjoy you!"

He proceeds to shove you back into the box, secures the latch, and then spins your box around as he wraps it
for your nephew's birthday.

It seems like an eternity in a tomb. You cannot move, breathe, or see anything. You can feel the movement of
people, machinery and vehicles as you are transported to your destination.

"Oh, look, Todd, your uncle sent you a box by overnight mail."

"Cool, I hope it's the transformers I asked for," you hear Todd say, as you are brusquely shaken.

Overnight? It felt like at least a week.

You hear the sound of paper being torn off.

"A jack-in-the-box? Unc must think I'm a 4 year old!" Todd shouted in disgust.

You can hear disappointment in his mother's voice, "Well, turn the handle. Your uncle's not above hiding a
gift card or something inside the jack-in-the-box. He probably got the toy just to punk you, Todd."

"A gift card? Oh, the store was probably out of Transformers. I'm sure you're right."

He sounds happy as he turns the crank, and that infernal Pop Goes the Weasel begins to play.

BOING!


What do you do now?


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