Chad opened the box. It appeared to be empty, then he noticed the small crank on the side of the box. He decided to turn the crank.
A tinny music box sound played "All Around the Mulberry Bush."
It was weird because there didn't appear to be any music box, just the crank and the empty box. Chad kept cranking.
When he got to the part in the tune where the lyrics say, "Pop goes the weasel!"
He heard a popping noise, just before he blacked out.
He must have blacked out, because one minute he was looking into the empty box, and now he was in total darkness with his body doubled over and his face buried in his own crotch. He couldn't speak or see, but he could hear, and feel.
He felt like he was inside a box being manhandled by a forklift.
"Heh, heh, Jock in the box," boomed a young male voice. It sounded familiar but somewhat distorted. Chad was confused.
The music box tune began to play.
"Is that safe?" asked another voice.
"Sure, there's only a need for caution when the box is empty. Now we got us a Chad-in-the-Box."
The cranking continued, "POP GOES THE WEASEL!"
The pressure was off Chad's back and his head was springing out of his crotch. He blinked in the light and inhaled the fresh air. When his eyes focused on his situation, Chad said, "Eeep!"
It was impossible, but he was in the box outside his now skyscraper of a locker in the hands of two malevolent looking giant teenagers. It took him a moment to adjust his new shrunken perspective to recognize his captors.