Here Is A Story That I Wrote Just Now
Josef and the Box That Fell from Somewhere Next to His Ceiling
Josef was in his room.
“Fuck,” he said.
He stared at his computer screen. The white word-processor page blank, save the words “One key difference between the electoral processes in majority/plurality systems and proportional representation systems is”.
He leaned back in his chair.
He blinked.
He blinked again.
“Alright, Josef. Only fourteen more pages to go. You’ve done this before and you can do it again. Damn it, I’m talking to myself again.”
He grunted, and his back came off the chair and his hands returned to the keyboard.
“Alright, look. I’m just going to bang this thing out. It’s due tomorrow and at this point I don’t give a damn. So let’s just lower our standards and get this done. Last paper for this class, so let’s just do it. Okay, here we go.”
He began to type, speaking aloud as he did so.
“One key difference between the electoral processes, no, ‘in’ the electoral processes, in majority/plurality systems and proportional representation systems is the fact that proportional systems have a greater degree of representation for all citizens whereas plurality/majority systems tend to be disproportional.”
He was silent for a moment. Then, his right eye twitched.
“That sums it up. I can’t say anything else. I answered the damn question in one sentence and they want fourteen pages. Fourteen goddam pages. How am I supposed to fill up fourteen goddam pages? What the hell do these people want from me. This is ridiculous.”
He was yelling.
“I mean it’s just downright ridiculous. I can’t possibly write this much. What the hell do they expect, for me to be some sort of genius, for christsake? I mean, God, what is their problem?”
He gripped his hair and began to pull, screaming now.
“I can’t take it anymore. This class sucks. Why the hell did I take it? I am such an idiot, and I’m tired. What am I going to do?”
At that moment, a small object fell on him. It bounced off his head and landed on the quilt with the bizarre orange pattern that draped his bed.
He let go of his hair and turned around in his seat.
On the bed was a cardboard container about the size of a small jewelry box. Despite its journey through the air, it had landed so that the “This end up” arrows were pointing up. Along the sides, the word “fragile” was written in every single language Josef could recognize. A white piece of paper was fastened to its top.
Josef looked toward the ceiling. It was as white and as empty as it had ever been, providing no clues as to the origin of the thing that has struck him. His gaze returned to the box. He reached out and unfastened the white piece of paper, which was a note.
“To Whom This May Concern - Within this box is an idea that has never before been thought. Please open at your own risk. By the way, this idea could form the basis for any successful political science paper. Enjoy. -W.”
Josef wrinkled his eyebrows.
“What the hell?”
The top of the box was held closed with clear packaging tape. He reached for the scissors that were at the top shelf of his desk, but his hand stopped just before touching them. He brought it back, empty.
He the box was light enough to hold in one hand, and he held it up to the light of the nearby lamp, turning it with his wrist, looking at it from all sides. He then put the box down on his desk and reached for the telephone. He dialed a number, waited, and then said, “Mason, what are you doing right now? Well, this is important. Come over for a sec. Alright, see you in a bit,” and hung up.
The sun inched across the sky and the shadows of the furniture near Josef’s window grew by an unnoticeable length while the yellow tree outside lost a leaf.
Josef’s eyes did not leave the box until he heard the knock on his door.
“It’s open.”
In walked Mason. Josef tossed him the box.
“Mason, what do you think of this?”
Mason held it in his hands.
“It’s a box.”
“Does it seem strange to you in any way?”
“Apparently it’s fragile.”
“Nothing else seems strange about it to you?”
“Not that I can see.”
“Read this.” He passed Mason the note.
Mason read it and shrugged his shoulders.
“This note explains everything. Why are you asking me?”
“What does it explain?”
“Well, it’s clearly a box with an idea in it. What’s so hard to understand?”
“The concept of a box with an idea in it that’s never been thought of before doesn’t seem strange to you?”
“I suppose it’s as good a concept as any other. Where did you get it?”
“It fell on me.”
“From where?”
“I don’t know.”
“No kidding?”
“No.”
“Have you thought about opening it?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I called you.”
“It’s says to do so at your own risk.”
“I know.”
Mason held the box at eye level. Josef looked out the window at the yellow tree.
“You know what’s really strange, though?”
“What?”
“The note says that it could form the basis of any successful political science paper, and I’m working on a political science paper right now and I’m having a hell of a time with it.”
“This might be the thing you’ve been waiting for.”
“I know, but how do we know it’s safe to open?”
“Perhaps someone wanted you to have this box.”
“Yes, but why would they warn me about the risk of opening the box if they wanted me to have it?”
“Well, when you purchase a hair-dryer, they warn you not to put it in the bathtub, but they still want you to have the hair-dryer.”
“This is true. But simply operating the hair-dryer isn’t an inherently negative thing. It’s only when you combine it with bath-water that it becomes something negative.”
“Perhaps this idea itself isn’t harmless, but the risk involved is that it cold be harmful when combined with another idea.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“I have an idea.”
“Tell.”
“Let’s call up Arend. We’ll have him open it for us.”
“I fucking hate Arend. Couldn’t we have Osbert do it?”
“No, I love Osbert too much. Why do you hate Arend?”
“Okay, well, maybe I don’t hate him, but he’s, you know, like, a lame-ass.”
“He is a lame-ass, isn’t he. He’s always snorting at people, too. Have you ever noticed how he snorts?”
“Yes. Yes, I have.”
“But this is all the more reason to have Arend do it. If this idea screws him up at all, it won’t be such as loss to the world. I’ll even call him for you.”
“Okay, call him.”
Mason picked up the telephone and dialed Arend.
“Arend? Hey, it’s Mason. Listen, come over to Josef’s place for a second. We need your opinion on something. Oh, I know you fucking hate Josef, but that’s not important right now. Just come over. Okay, bye.” He hung up the telephone.
Mason sat down on Josef’s bed, and the two of them sat in silence, eyes on the box. The sun lowered in the sky. The shadows began to blend into the wall. A branch of the yellow tree slipped into shadow while no leaves fell.
To be continued.
W.
Josef was in his room.
“Fuck,” he said.
He stared at his computer screen. The white word-processor page blank, save the words “One key difference between the electoral processes in majority/plurality systems and proportional representation systems is”.
He leaned back in his chair.
He blinked.
He blinked again.
“Alright, Josef. Only fourteen more pages to go. You’ve done this before and you can do it again. Damn it, I’m talking to myself again.”
He grunted, and his back came off the chair and his hands returned to the keyboard.
“Alright, look. I’m just going to bang this thing out. It’s due tomorrow and at this point I don’t give a damn. So let’s just lower our standards and get this done. Last paper for this class, so let’s just do it. Okay, here we go.”
He began to type, speaking aloud as he did so.
“One key difference between the electoral processes, no, ‘in’ the electoral processes, in majority/plurality systems and proportional representation systems is the fact that proportional systems have a greater degree of representation for all citizens whereas plurality/majority systems tend to be disproportional.”
He was silent for a moment. Then, his right eye twitched.
“That sums it up. I can’t say anything else. I answered the damn question in one sentence and they want fourteen pages. Fourteen goddam pages. How am I supposed to fill up fourteen goddam pages? What the hell do these people want from me. This is ridiculous.”
He was yelling.
“I mean it’s just downright ridiculous. I can’t possibly write this much. What the hell do they expect, for me to be some sort of genius, for christsake? I mean, God, what is their problem?”
He gripped his hair and began to pull, screaming now.
“I can’t take it anymore. This class sucks. Why the hell did I take it? I am such an idiot, and I’m tired. What am I going to do?”
At that moment, a small object fell on him. It bounced off his head and landed on the quilt with the bizarre orange pattern that draped his bed.
He let go of his hair and turned around in his seat.
On the bed was a cardboard container about the size of a small jewelry box. Despite its journey through the air, it had landed so that the “This end up” arrows were pointing up. Along the sides, the word “fragile” was written in every single language Josef could recognize. A white piece of paper was fastened to its top.
Josef looked toward the ceiling. It was as white and as empty as it had ever been, providing no clues as to the origin of the thing that has struck him. His gaze returned to the box. He reached out and unfastened the white piece of paper, which was a note.
“To Whom This May Concern - Within this box is an idea that has never before been thought. Please open at your own risk. By the way, this idea could form the basis for any successful political science paper. Enjoy. -W.”
Josef wrinkled his eyebrows.
“What the hell?”
The top of the box was held closed with clear packaging tape. He reached for the scissors that were at the top shelf of his desk, but his hand stopped just before touching them. He brought it back, empty.
He the box was light enough to hold in one hand, and he held it up to the light of the nearby lamp, turning it with his wrist, looking at it from all sides. He then put the box down on his desk and reached for the telephone. He dialed a number, waited, and then said, “Mason, what are you doing right now? Well, this is important. Come over for a sec. Alright, see you in a bit,” and hung up.
The sun inched across the sky and the shadows of the furniture near Josef’s window grew by an unnoticeable length while the yellow tree outside lost a leaf.
Josef’s eyes did not leave the box until he heard the knock on his door.
“It’s open.”
In walked Mason. Josef tossed him the box.
“Mason, what do you think of this?”
Mason held it in his hands.
“It’s a box.”
“Does it seem strange to you in any way?”
“Apparently it’s fragile.”
“Nothing else seems strange about it to you?”
“Not that I can see.”
“Read this.” He passed Mason the note.
Mason read it and shrugged his shoulders.
“This note explains everything. Why are you asking me?”
“What does it explain?”
“Well, it’s clearly a box with an idea in it. What’s so hard to understand?”
“The concept of a box with an idea in it that’s never been thought of before doesn’t seem strange to you?”
“I suppose it’s as good a concept as any other. Where did you get it?”
“It fell on me.”
“From where?”
“I don’t know.”
“No kidding?”
“No.”
“Have you thought about opening it?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I called you.”
“It’s says to do so at your own risk.”
“I know.”
Mason held the box at eye level. Josef looked out the window at the yellow tree.
“You know what’s really strange, though?”
“What?”
“The note says that it could form the basis of any successful political science paper, and I’m working on a political science paper right now and I’m having a hell of a time with it.”
“This might be the thing you’ve been waiting for.”
“I know, but how do we know it’s safe to open?”
“Perhaps someone wanted you to have this box.”
“Yes, but why would they warn me about the risk of opening the box if they wanted me to have it?”
“Well, when you purchase a hair-dryer, they warn you not to put it in the bathtub, but they still want you to have the hair-dryer.”
“This is true. But simply operating the hair-dryer isn’t an inherently negative thing. It’s only when you combine it with bath-water that it becomes something negative.”
“Perhaps this idea itself isn’t harmless, but the risk involved is that it cold be harmful when combined with another idea.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“I have an idea.”
“Tell.”
“Let’s call up Arend. We’ll have him open it for us.”
“I fucking hate Arend. Couldn’t we have Osbert do it?”
“No, I love Osbert too much. Why do you hate Arend?”
“Okay, well, maybe I don’t hate him, but he’s, you know, like, a lame-ass.”
“He is a lame-ass, isn’t he. He’s always snorting at people, too. Have you ever noticed how he snorts?”
“Yes. Yes, I have.”
“But this is all the more reason to have Arend do it. If this idea screws him up at all, it won’t be such as loss to the world. I’ll even call him for you.”
“Okay, call him.”
Mason picked up the telephone and dialed Arend.
“Arend? Hey, it’s Mason. Listen, come over to Josef’s place for a second. We need your opinion on something. Oh, I know you fucking hate Josef, but that’s not important right now. Just come over. Okay, bye.” He hung up the telephone.
Mason sat down on Josef’s bed, and the two of them sat in silence, eyes on the box. The sun lowered in the sky. The shadows began to blend into the wall. A branch of the yellow tree slipped into shadow while no leaves fell.
To be continued.
W.