JORDAN BRAMLETT - JOKE BOX

Just a man with a passion for writing, a love for gaming, and hunger for waffles. Born in Alaska, and raised in Arkansas, he is currently enrolled in Full Sail University, located in Orlando, Florida. He is pursuing his dream of writing and designing Video Games. Plus Ultra and God bless!

​Joke Box
​

​There it sat. The box appeared, at first, to be a simple container made of wood and brass. Though later I would discover what hellish thing lurked within that simple box. But, but, but I’m getting ahead of myself sweet reader. Allow me to tell the tale as it was meant to be told.
            So, where was I? Yes, the box, of course. Get this. Mary, my wife, was in the kitchen ruining the most important meal of the day. While that’s happening, I was sneaking out the front to get a quick cigarette. Lighting one up as I opened the door, and there it, it being the box, sat. “Shit!” I said startled, almost busting my ass falling over the damn thing. I bent down to take a better look at the box.
            “Is that a cigarette, John?” my wife yelled from the kitchen.
            Shit! I launched that cigarette like Joe Montana and snapped back, “What are you talking about Mary?! Maybe… You should have someone check your eyes!”
            “I smelt it, dumbass.”
            Ignoring my partner till eternity, I noticed words carved into the box. I, being a somewhat educated man, starting reading, "I'm so sorry to do this. It cannot be destroyed but only given. Best of luck." I, again a somewhat educated man, unlatched the box and started to open it.
 My mistake.
            Out of the slight opening in the box, a sound began roaring, “Hello? Operator, I don’t care heaven or hell, just get me to one of them!”.
I slammed the box shut. My eyes shot to the kitchen. She didn’t hear that? I turned back to the wooden container. What the hell… Before I could allow myself to slip into insanity, I decided to, and did, open the box fully.
There it sat. A human head. I began rubbing my eyes as if there was a stain on them. The head’s eyes then opened. Now, reader, I began to panic.
“Why the long face, friend?” the uhhh... head asked me. I, being rather speechless, remained speechless as the head continued, “If I had that long of a face, I’d need a bigger box!”
"John…" my wife barely spoke, trembling.
I slammed the box shut again. “Mary, go back to the kitchen,” I warned.
“John, what’s in the box?” she asked softly.
“Nothing,” I said, wanting to protect her.
“What’s in the box?” she then repeated, color draining from her already unbelievably pale face.
“Mary, I don’t know,” I answered as honestly as I could.
"What's in the box?!" she repeated with the addition of increased volume and panic.
Now, reader, I'm going to do you a favor and skip the next 15 minutes, or what felt to me as a lifetime. Know that my wife, during this gap of time, has begun finally, but not fully, to calm down. I, being from Jersey, am doing okay.
I then, after some silence, pick up the box. It’s surprisingly very light. I slowly open the box. The head, I assume unable to help itself, opens with, “I’ve heard I’m very light”.
“Surprisingly”, I state, cautiously turning to my wife.
“That’s because I’m an airhead!” the head yells, only to be muffled by his own laughter.
“Nope,” I say, slamming the box shut. I proceeded to the back door before looking back at my wife. “It must be destroyed!” I announce, my figure pointing upward, fully determined.
“It’s a slight against God,” she replied.
“Also, comedians, and those who can hear,” I confirm. With a nod, I’m out the door and headed to my small shop.
Over the next three days, I failed to destroy the box and its host. After each failed attempt, I am berated and bombarded with horrible jokes as I check to see if my work has been completed. Just yesterday as I finished burying the box, I strolled back into my home only to find the damn thing on my table! I flung the box open in horror.
The head, waiting for his cue said, “Well, don’t go losing your head now!”
Reader, I’m not a bad person. Though I am just a person. On that fourth day, I could stand it no longer. Mary had gone to her mother’s on the second day, and well, I missed her. I missed that woman and her hardly edible cooking. So, I broke. That very night I snuck to the neighbor’s front porch and left the damn thing. I thought about leaving a note, anything that might help those I’ve now doomed. I then remembered the carvings on the box.
"I'm so sorry to do this. It cannot be destroyed but only given. Best of luck."
 
 
Fin