“Sonja!”
“Tre’Sean!”
“Where are you?”
“Home. In my room.”
“Good. I’m coming over.”
“What? Why? What’s going on?”
“Remember that black box?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“We should have left it. That thing is cursed or something.”
“What do you mean?”
“It came to life!”
“… Goodbye Tre. I don’t have time for your jokes right now.”
“No! Don’t hang up! I’m serious! Just listen.”
“This better not be some dumb story, man.”
“Look, it’s not, okay. Now come let me in.”
“What happened to you?”
“That box!”
“Okay, man. What happened?”
“Okay, so I was working on painting, right? And I heard this knocking noise. At first, I thought there was someone at the door, so I go downstairs and look out the window, but no one was there. So, I go back upstairs and go back to painting. Then the knocking noise came back. I ignore it, right, cause apparently some idiot’s playing too much with the door. At least that’s what I thought until the knocking got more intense. So, I look around like what in the world, right, and that’s when I noticed the box moving. So, I got the butcher knife out of my bible and--.”
“You have a butcher knife in your bible?”
“Yeah, for protection. That’s completely normal, but that’s not important right now.”
“No, a gun in your bible is normal. A knife is a little bit more psychotic.”
“No, it’s not… whatever. Stop changing the subject, just listen.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Stop talking. So, I grab the knife out of my bible, which is completely normal by the way, and walk towards the box. Why did I do that, I don’t know, but I did. But before I could get to it the lid pops off and these rocks come flying out and starts swirling in front of me. Then, they fall into a pile and out of nowhere they form into this guy with a wooden leg. I start to run out the door, but the man beats me to it and asks me about some letter.”
“A letter? The guy comes out of the box to ask about a letter?”
“Exactly. That’s what I’m saying. So, I’m like, ‘What letter? I ain’t got no letter.’ And he starts yelling at me about the letter. So, I start yelling back and I tell the man, ‘Look. I don’t know where your precious letter is, but I don’t have it. So, if you want to, you can go back into the box or go out there and find it yourself, but I got things to do.’ Then the guy saw the knife in my hand and was like, ‘You dare threaten me with that sorry excuse for a sword?’ And I’m like, ‘What? No.’”
“Ha! Sorry excuse for a sword?”
“That’s what I’m saying. And then, the guy turns back into rocks and attacks me.”
“So, you got beat up by rocks?”
“That’s not funny.”
“I mean, it kinda is if you think about it.”
“Look, Sonja, we need to get rid of that box.”
“Okay, alright. Let me go get my coat.”