This morning I woke at a reasonable time, still searing with frustration, being offline is not my forte. A respite came in the form of a courier, with which my mother interfaced at my behest , because I was awake, but not yet out of bed, this all changed as it dawned on me that the object of my retail perversions had finally arrived!
It came in a box, manila in colour, the vessel’s heritage became immediately obvious as mine eyes were to take in the markings, inherent to all things who come from the Amazon.
As those who know me will know, my conflict with packaging has lasted for as many breaths as I have taken, so it came as a pleasant surprise that this one submitted quietly, allowing me to probe its innards without protest.
It was at this juncture that I stopped, a nay to word and thought, as silence did as silence does, through my brain with no remorse, to fill the gaping hole left by my open-lipped surprise, and then as the conclusion drew itself on my consciousness, I was heard to remark the most fowl of truths
This package is a communist!
The soft,malignant exterior should have been enough to set of the communist detection heuristic; my grandfather always said “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is” his words never echoed in my brain with such prominence as now, facing the communist “package-zilla” before me. Could he be right? Was the DVD in the box a ruse to lure me into the grasp of the monster?
My desire pressed against those words, “the youth never do respect their elders” I thought as I began the first assault on the plastic compound in which my purchase was confined.
After an epic battle, minutes in length, I had it in my grasp, mine to photograph, I bowed to the slain monster, and paid the product the respect of memorials it on an actual, traditional wooden table.