Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

Shipped (Vikkstar123)

"Have a nice trip, mothersucker." JJ is still chortling in the background as stiff, dusty cardboard layers block out the morning sunlight up above, sending me spiralling into deeper and deeper darkness, save for the miniscule speck of light coming through a sideways tunnel for air to flow in without me being noticed. The fuzzy warmth of the vodka is finally wearing off and the anxiety is settling in. This was a very, very bad idea. Masking tape squeals excitedly above my head as Simon and Josh seal up the top of the box, trapping me in my own drunken hell. Packing peanuts cling to every centimeter of my body and no amount of grabbing them and throwing them or flicking them away does any good. I can hear scratching on every side of the box in turn as someone writes something – hopefully telling the postal workers to keep the box this way up. If past luck with their brilliant plans is any indication, my body will show up tomorrow afternoon with a broken neck. My parents would be furious if they knew about this. Kay is going to be furious, too. Either way, I want the footage, just to prove that I've done it, that I do leave my office/bedroom.

            This will never see the light of day.

            YouTube will never know.

            I turn on the GoPro and the light is blinding. I look piss drunk and I am, no doubt about that. I press 'Record' and I point the camera at my face, letting the microphone pick up the muffled laughter and scheming going on outside my cardboard prison, not knowing what to say about all of this. I use the light to look around inside the box, but I don't get very far before I feel the box scooting along the floor.

            "You okay, Vik?"

            "As okay as I can be, trapped in your damned box." More laughter.

            "We had to get you back for the pies somehow, mate. Now shut the fuck up and hang on."

            "Hang onto wha- AAAHHH!" The box moves suddenly as it's lifted up off of the ground and shakily carried across the house.

            "Didn't he say to shut the fuck up?"

            "God damn, he's heavy! When'd he get so heavy?" There's nothing I can do to brace myself for the shaking and jerking because everything around me is rattling around, too. I can't tell if having the camera light on is making it worse, or if dealing with this in pitch darkness would be worse. We must be almost to the car. How much farther could it be? I hear someone open the trunk and I start to brace myself for a sideways shove. But the box plummets down to the ground on the side where I am sitting up and there's nothing I can do to prepare for the impact.

            "For fuck's sake, Simon! Don't drop 'im!"

            "I didn't drop him! He slipped!"

            "Well, pick him up again!" Before I can fully process what happened, I'm floating again. There is a scratchy, whispery sliding noise as they guide the box into the car, feet first. The trunk slams and bumps the box right above my head and I reflectively duck. I hear the car start and four doors slam shut and we start moving in reverse. This is nothing exciting, so I turn the camera back off to conserve the battery. I catch myself looking around, trying to find a window to look out of, but there's nothing but darkness and the tiny dot of light shining from the far side. It's very discomfiting to be moving this fast without being able to see what's happening. I try to map out where we're going in my head and it feels like it takes ten times longer than it should to get to the little post office down the road. At last, the car stops and doors snap open, the trunk pops open, and they start shaking me around again like a hamster in a cage.

            "Can you stop being an idiot and go inside and get a trolley?" There's a long pause before they start pulling my box out again and it slowly, slowly moves down toward the pavement. The trunk slams shut, keys jingle, the car locks. I hear wheels and metal scraping against the rough street and without warning, I lurch forward toward my feet as they wheel the box into the post office.