small mammals

when i was roughly 28% of my current age, there existed a grocery store in hibbing called the red owl. sadly, it no longer exists. it has been replaced by the regional chain of super one. also sadly, that is the only viable store left in the mesabi mall. which is an even sadder comment on the economic situation of northern minnesota, but let's talk happy talk.
they used to have boxes to put your groceries in. cardboard boxes that you had to take from the shelf under the conveyor belt. boxes that you had to form yourself. boxes that you got to take with you--which was the best part.

boxes have many uses. after losing the innocence of childhood, most people think boxes are only good for storing stuff or carrying stuff around or returning empties you find in the neighbor's dumpster for another bottle of colt 45. when you're a kid, boxes canstore stuff. but more than that, boxes are--by far--the best free toy. and with the boxes coming from the grocery store--which most people shop almost as regularly as the adult entertainment shops--you were not worried about ruining your boxes. boxes were disposable and easily replaced. you just had to wait a couple days before you had a new adventure. ala calvin and hobbes, you could make it a time machine, a duplicator, a transmogifier or a cat prison.

as a sadistic 6 yr old that was just beginning to understand his divine right to subjugate all lesser life forms, the cat prison was always my favorite. you drop the box down over the frisky feline, and you have a good hour of entertainment. sticking your fingers through the handle holes trying not to get swatted was the most fun game. if you lost and the domestic lion drew blood, you could always exact your revenge by shaking the box really hard and scaring the bejesus out of the stupid animal. this led to the second cool subgame of the cat prison experience. what does the cat do when you let it out? usually one of two things happened. one, it would just sit there, looking around, making sure that you were really letting it out. the kitty would cock its head at you giving you a blank look (only now do i realize it was contemplating pouncing on your feet and leaving several large gashes while you slept that night), and plop down grooming itself or going to sleep. or, the preferred option, it would run faster than you have ever seen a mammal move, and--when it rounded the corner to the kitchen--it would slide on the tile and smack into the cabinets. highest of high comedy.