wkoti
Flaky McFlakerton
- Joined
- Jul 5, 2009
- Messages
- 3,138
I'm writing this for a dear friend Backslide420 (Jason), who at this moment is sitting in a hospital bed, his wife in tears, sobbing in dismay on the other side of his bed, reminiscing of all the good times they had had. He unfortunately is inaudible and immobile do to his jaw being wired shut to maybe, just maybe, allow his shattered jaw, and torched skin to heal. His hands which were blown up into many tiny pieces all over the garage, leaving disfigured nubs where his hands used to be. Please bare with me, as I attempt to translate the mumbles, sobs and squeaks into what I believe to be what he is trying to say in English.
It all started one crisp day in March, I was merely sitting in my home, enjoying a typical March day, when a dear friend named CJ, stopped by in hopes of having a cigar with me. We rummaged through the humidor until we found cigars worthy of a flame. We made our way downstairs and through the laundry room until we found our way into the garage. Punching the caps of our cigars, and giving them a torch, we conversed like men about beer, cigars and cars until we had a thought... "Why not go down to the cigar store, pick up some necessities?" With no more the a nod of his head CJ and I, climbed into the car, opened the garage and prepared to leave. With the car slowly reversing out of the garage, I noticed a package sitting on the porch. With much thought I couldn't remember what I had ordered, especially something of this size. At a loss, I placed the car in neutral, applied the parking brake, opened the door, stepped out of the car and made my way to the porch steps. As I got closer, the package got bigger, until I reached this plain brown box sitting on my welcome mat addressed to me. I further investigated until I decided to move this rather unexpected package to the garage for even further investigation. I pulled on the bottom right corner to pick it up, but to no avail thinking to myself "This package must weight at least 40lbs." With a huff and a puff, I elevated this heavy box into the air, walked down the porch steps and into the garage, placing it to rest in the middle of the garage. Puzzled and confused, I decided to finish our journey to the cigar shop, and we would deal with this package upon our return.
1 Hour later...
We pulled onto my street and into the drive way, at which moment I pushed the button on my visor to open my garage. There it was... The mystery box, all 40lbs of it, sitting calmly in the middle of my garage. It had to be moved... It had to be opened, it had to discovered. I slowly inched my way into the garage, unaware of the danger that would soon be mine.
We climbed out of the car and approached the box that would later be named, the "Box of Doom." We placed the items in our hands onto the hood of the car, and decided it was now time to inspect the inside of this random package. Cutting the clear tape releasing to the flaps on the top, we could see nothing but a black trash bag. Untying the top of the bag is when we discovered a hard, multicolored substance, we discovered it was foam. Not just normal foam, sticky hardened, nearly impenetrable expanding foam. "Oh god, it must be a trap." I thought silently to myself.
Not knowing the intentions of it's sender, we applied blue latex gloves and got to work. We tore away the brown cardboard box the package once resided in, finding it held its rectangular shape without it's original frame. We then ripped the black trash bag away from its sticky coating of foam. Turning it over to finish removing the trash bag, we found yet another strange twist in this never ending mystery, the bottom was a foundation of concrete, in it sat a a metal box buried 3 inches deep in the center of this base. Realizing this wouldn't be a "normal" deboxing, we stared, stumped at this package and wondered of the malicious intent of the sender. What had I done? Who had I upset? After discussing a plan of attack, we decided the best course of action, was to jump all in, use whatever tool was needed. As I rummaged through the garage for power tools, crowbars, and blow torches, CJ began using his barbaric side ripping pieces of foam off of the mesh siding of the metal box. Ripping, tearing, digging and destroying, CJ had removed the layer of foam off the siding, revealing hinges and many small wires protruding from the sides of the box. These wires looked fishy, putting us both on edge, "What the hell are those for." CJ announced. Now knowing it had a lid, we flipped it over the other side and began digging again. We found a latch at which point, CJ moved out of the way to allow me to open this box which had put up a fight.
The next thing I remember was lying on a hospital bed, unable to move, unable to speak, wrapped in cotton bandages, scared out of my mind, I began screaming, as loud as I can. In rushed a nurse, a doctor, and a police officer. After the doctor explained my condition and what happened, the police officer had told me the contents of the package. A wonderful assortment of my favorite cigars, handcrafted microbrews, and the most shocking, a T-Shirt which must of taken many many many hours of research to find I loved this shirt and obtain it.
Pictures found here https://picasaweb.google.com/105910739425029860002/CPBombing?authuser=0&feat=directlink
It all started one crisp day in March, I was merely sitting in my home, enjoying a typical March day, when a dear friend named CJ, stopped by in hopes of having a cigar with me. We rummaged through the humidor until we found cigars worthy of a flame. We made our way downstairs and through the laundry room until we found our way into the garage. Punching the caps of our cigars, and giving them a torch, we conversed like men about beer, cigars and cars until we had a thought... "Why not go down to the cigar store, pick up some necessities?" With no more the a nod of his head CJ and I, climbed into the car, opened the garage and prepared to leave. With the car slowly reversing out of the garage, I noticed a package sitting on the porch. With much thought I couldn't remember what I had ordered, especially something of this size. At a loss, I placed the car in neutral, applied the parking brake, opened the door, stepped out of the car and made my way to the porch steps. As I got closer, the package got bigger, until I reached this plain brown box sitting on my welcome mat addressed to me. I further investigated until I decided to move this rather unexpected package to the garage for even further investigation. I pulled on the bottom right corner to pick it up, but to no avail thinking to myself "This package must weight at least 40lbs." With a huff and a puff, I elevated this heavy box into the air, walked down the porch steps and into the garage, placing it to rest in the middle of the garage. Puzzled and confused, I decided to finish our journey to the cigar shop, and we would deal with this package upon our return.
1 Hour later...
We pulled onto my street and into the drive way, at which moment I pushed the button on my visor to open my garage. There it was... The mystery box, all 40lbs of it, sitting calmly in the middle of my garage. It had to be moved... It had to be opened, it had to discovered. I slowly inched my way into the garage, unaware of the danger that would soon be mine.
We climbed out of the car and approached the box that would later be named, the "Box of Doom." We placed the items in our hands onto the hood of the car, and decided it was now time to inspect the inside of this random package. Cutting the clear tape releasing to the flaps on the top, we could see nothing but a black trash bag. Untying the top of the bag is when we discovered a hard, multicolored substance, we discovered it was foam. Not just normal foam, sticky hardened, nearly impenetrable expanding foam. "Oh god, it must be a trap." I thought silently to myself.
Not knowing the intentions of it's sender, we applied blue latex gloves and got to work. We tore away the brown cardboard box the package once resided in, finding it held its rectangular shape without it's original frame. We then ripped the black trash bag away from its sticky coating of foam. Turning it over to finish removing the trash bag, we found yet another strange twist in this never ending mystery, the bottom was a foundation of concrete, in it sat a a metal box buried 3 inches deep in the center of this base. Realizing this wouldn't be a "normal" deboxing, we stared, stumped at this package and wondered of the malicious intent of the sender. What had I done? Who had I upset? After discussing a plan of attack, we decided the best course of action, was to jump all in, use whatever tool was needed. As I rummaged through the garage for power tools, crowbars, and blow torches, CJ began using his barbaric side ripping pieces of foam off of the mesh siding of the metal box. Ripping, tearing, digging and destroying, CJ had removed the layer of foam off the siding, revealing hinges and many small wires protruding from the sides of the box. These wires looked fishy, putting us both on edge, "What the hell are those for." CJ announced. Now knowing it had a lid, we flipped it over the other side and began digging again. We found a latch at which point, CJ moved out of the way to allow me to open this box which had put up a fight.
The next thing I remember was lying on a hospital bed, unable to move, unable to speak, wrapped in cotton bandages, scared out of my mind, I began screaming, as loud as I can. In rushed a nurse, a doctor, and a police officer. After the doctor explained my condition and what happened, the police officer had told me the contents of the package. A wonderful assortment of my favorite cigars, handcrafted microbrews, and the most shocking, a T-Shirt which must of taken many many many hours of research to find I loved this shirt and obtain it.
Pictures found here https://picasaweb.google.com/105910739425029860002/CPBombing?authuser=0&feat=directlink
