In the Box

There was a box.

And it was moving.

When my doorbell had rung at 5 AM my suspicion had been aroused, and now that I stood there in the dark, early morning fog, I found myself in a dilemma. On one hand the object just looked like an ordinary, brown box. But every few seconds, if I watched close enough, I would see the box jerk in a random direction.

Maybe it was a dog? Or a cat? There could be some helpless creature in there that needed my help! I started to reach for the box, but then hesitated. What if it was a dangerous creature? I imagined some rabid raccoon or poisonous snake leaping out with its jaws snapping wildly. Perhaps I better take a more strategic approach.

I went inside and found a rope lying on my basement carpet. I wound it up, grabbed a roll of duct tape, and hurried back to the front porch.

The box was still there.

And it was still moving.

I took a deep breath. My hands were white and shaking wildly, but I tried to steady them and attach a small piece of tape to the rope. I finally somewhat succeeded, and then, before I could talk myself out it, reached out and stuck the tape to the top of the box.

I slowly backed away.

With a sudden burst of courage, I began jerking the rope side to side. Is it heavy? Is it light? Perhaps if I just jerk it a little harder… Pop! My mouth gaped open. In my effort to give the box a slight jiggle, I had accidently popped open the lid.

And now I could see what was inside the box. It was the last thing I had expected. The box was empty.