At some point around 2008 I put together a box with a bunch of random shit laying around. Nothing of value, all stuff you question why you even kept it in the first place basically. Off it went to an unsuspecting victim/friend. From there, the box-of-shit was born. Since then, I have sent out hundreds of boxes or envelopes of shit. On occasion, people document what they receive with comedic flair. This is one of the boxes I received and wrote about. This was originally published on attrition.org.
After sending Aloria a box-of-shit, she felt that something was left unsaid between us. Perhaps my stalking was not firm enough, decisive or just left more questions than answers about my resolve in demonstrating a certain level of ‘affection’. Perhaps she just wanted to send a message of “hey, not scared of you pansy”. Perhaps she is just excited, and this may finally result in a box being sent without a subsequent TRO. I can hope, no, dream…
As with all packages, the bomb-sniffing cats had to be given ample time to determine the level of threat. Badger examined the ink for traces of chemical agents and Speedbump went to work on the seams to get an idea of what illicit materials were stashed in the box. Twenty minutes later, Badger looked up at me and gave me the nod. All is well they concluded.
Next up, examine the handwriting. Using expert analysis techniques from the FBI, I could discern that the person who wrote this has serial killer tendencies. Letters that looked like pointy objects, a pronounced comma and not completing the ‘O’ are all tell-tale signs of serious personality imbalance. This may be love.
The box opened, a hand-written love letter spilled out followed by an orgy of odd items. Rubber gloves, stickers, plastic animals, a book.. oh my, pure bliss. The traditional beer caps showed my stalk[ee|er] had a higher quality taste in beer than boxes of the past. The rubber gloves are always a good safety measure for times when personal violation is in order. Large round stickers to act as pasties for my buxom bitch-tits. For the next security convention I suffer, I can label myself a ‘narcissistic vulnerability pimp‘. Well, she got two of the three words correct.
The transit ticket must be a test of my stalker ability.. what information can be gleaned from it?! Using mass transit in NJ is smart, because those weirdos don’t allow left turns. NYP must be New York Plot, how New Jersey sees that big plot of land next door. RTX was the defense contractor in The Falcon and the Snowman, giving me insight as to where she may work. I am pretty sure MORRTWN is a vague reference to Drunloria screaming “MOAR TOWN”, desperate to find the next bar serving up roofie-coladas. Thirteen dollars, the price of escape from New York?
The Soldier’s Creed card, to remind me just how far away I am from being a real man. Thanks reminder! I will say that I am proficient with ‘drills’ and stand ready to engage, if you catch my drift.
‘Yiddish with Dick and Jane‘ is a nice touch, encouraging me to branch out in my language skills. Being a cunning linguist, the more I learn, the more it satisfies my friends and partners. After all, a chachem must es gezunterheyt!
The Katjes-kinder, despite appearance, is not a bribe attempting to placate my guard cats. Rather, it is a throwback to the old “want some candy little boy?” routine. Yes, please. The inclusion of a Grow-a-Girlfriend is so thoughtful, giving me something to practice on while we are apart. Once she grows, this bitch is going to pay for the past sins of every ex-girlfriend, and then some.
The hand-knitted robot crafted especially for me defines cute. ‘Alorbot’, aka Mr Huggles, had an immediate identity crisis, thinking he should be with his people. Waffle was curious, Tater took the to bunker unsure of what Alorbot was there to do. Tater was sure of one thing.. he didn’t come bearing dandelion greens.