Flying Box

The morning news headline had clearly warned, "Big Flying Boxes Back Again," so when one appeared in the sky over Old Brundletook Field, it shouldn't have surprised them in the slightest. And yet it was surprising—as big flying boxes invariably are.

This box was typical, with standard smoothness and a particularly boring shade of gray. Roughly the size of a small shed, it skipped across the sky like a stone across a pond. It played the twinkling melody of an ice cream truck—a deceiving sound—given that no one had ever reported receiving a frozen treat from one of these peculiarities.

All morning the two had scoured the fields in search of Mr. Bunnybop, the elusive white-tailed jackrabbit whose latest business proposition had captured their imagination. But with the sudden arrival of the flying cube, the couple's attention shifted. Their eyes locked onto the box as it gradually slowed to a stop, sank to the ground, and promptly slipped into a deep slumber. The children's nursery rhyme "Tired Box, Scary Box" immediately sprang to mind.

Hush and stare, don't make a sound,
A weary box has touched the ground.
Still as stone, don't blink, don't shake,
For if you wake, the earth will quake.

They knew that one careless move would etch their names in the history books alongside the other unfortunate fools who had disturbed a resting box. For an excruciating hour, they stood still as statues, counting heartbeats, desperately willing the box to finish its nap and reclaim the sky.

Meanwhile, oblivious to all of this, Mr. Bunnybop was overjoyed. He had just closed a deal on forty-two pallets of Soviet-era machine guns. Still buzzing from the thrill of the sale, he sprinted through the field and slammed face-first into the box. The music ground to a halt and an ominous rumbling emanated from somewhere deep within. A small hatch creaked open, dispensing a single ice cream cone onto the grass. The cheerful jingle then abruptly resumed. "What a wonderful day for ice cream!" beamed the rabbit. The couple sighed. It was too late to run.