Life in the stockroom continued at its usual pace, a sort of disinterested shuffle urged on by the increasing frustration of managerial staff for whom laclk of enthusiasm is an alien concept. Then, without warning, the main lights in the stockroom went out. Only the individual aisle lights remained, casting an orange mood upon the darkness of our haunted store. It was like being inside one of the computer games where you wander around mazes shooting things before they rip you asunder. Or for that matter, a stage set for a play...

Ode To A Cardboard Box

(From A Midsummers Night Stacking by William Shakespeare)

Act I, Scene VI - Stackio wanders the specially marked walkways of the darkened stockroom

Stackio - Lo! What is this before me, obstructing a path of yellow chevrons? It is a box, forlorn and trampled, emptied of content and left to decompose in such thoughtless fashion that my heart is driven to despair at the arrogance of a busy stockroom.

Managera - Stackio! Stackio! Wherefore art thou, Stackio?

Stackio - Upon the indicated walkway shall you find me, beautiful Managera. Shall I compare thee to a brand new carton? You, whose fashion and cleanliness is worthy of the scratching of backs? Or shall I reflect upon the mortality of our stockroom, where beige conformity one day gives surrender to inevitable decay like a plucked rose? (To Box) Oh what wondrous tales of travel you could relate if you had but a voice with which to speak it. You, who have once taken your place in an iron container bound for distant shores, filled with the bounty from shops of sweat, now ripped and torn, forgotten and despised, your printed numbers bereft of meaning, no longer read by servants of this modest stockroom in a faraway land.

Managera - Fair Stackio, thy sorrow for the passing of this box is well meant, and my admiration for your gentle soul knows no comparison, but if thy doesn't shift thy idle seat in immediate haste, such wrath shall I wreak upon you that this very box will know how lucky it was to be discarded thus.

Stackio - I shall at once remove this trodden carcass and to the baler take it, where the naughty Jackal resides and compacts our fallen cartons in such temper foul, that as knowing as Managera may be, his language would sour the sweetest cup of tea at his struggles with dark machinery. But know that this box was dear to my heart in its short existence, its numbers checked and contents counted with loving care and accuracy. So saddened is my heart. Alas, poor box, I knew it well.

Oh Yeah... Today Is...

Sigh. Oh all right then, it happens to be that day when everyone likes wearing green while pretending to enjoy a certain brand of beer. Well I'm sorry, but you can waste time with your leprechauns when your chores are done...