Oh my gosh, I’m in a box. How did I get in a box? Think, think, think. Last thing I remember I was sitting down to get some work done at the computer, then…
Geez, really, a box? This makes no sense. I don’t have any enemies. I’m not worth enough to kidnap. My friends are all smaller and weaker than me, so there’s no way they could get me into a box. Then again, we do all work in the medical field.
What’s this box made of, some kind of dark plastic? I’m no ruler, but I’d guess it’s only 4 by 8 by 32 inches. Man, that’s a small box. How do I even fit in here? How could anyone fit?
I want to get out of this box, but what’s that feeling? I feel like there would be vast and horrible consequences for going outside of the box. Can I even think outside the box? Haha, at least I still have my sense of humor…in a box. That’s kind of funny.
Or maybe I’ve gone insane…in a box. That’s not funny. Mental illness is nothing to laugh about. That’s it, whatever it takes, I’m getting out of this box!