Assembly Required

I hope to turn this into a book one day. It wasn't meant to be literal, but the further I wrote, the more I liked the idea of it. Enjoy. I'll add more as I go I suppose.

So scattered are the pieces of life. The body and mind are portioned and haphazardly sundered. My arms are in box number 1. My torso is wrapped in box number 2. Legs consumed in bubble wrap and put into box number 3. My head is in box number 4. Combs are included. Thoughts in box number 5. Ambition in box number 6. Heart in box number 7. Oddly enough, my toes have their own box. Box number 8. Nail polish sold separately. These boxes pile high, higher than the heavens.

Some strange god has done this thing to me. I never knew him, or her for that matter; therefore, I was never blasphemous. It is a name I know not, so I could not speak it in vain. I am not familiar of its origin or its gospel. Yet it separates me. It must not consider me human. Or perhaps it does and just assumes I'm a bad person.

I work hard. I do not stray from love, from responsibility or study. I am honest and considerate for the most part. I keep my feet on the ground. I am logical, rational, and fair. Still these parcels are on random doorsteps and porches unknown. Mangy dogs sniff at the entrails neatly and lovingly situated in peanut packing and sent in boxes labeled "FRAGILE". The strange god is not here. It cares not for mankind, or even human kindness. It is a ruthless and cruel lord, and if it is here, it's laughing. I don't appreciate that, phantom god.

Box number 1 was delivered to a woman downtown, where four leaf clovers offer no luck. The stars don't shine here and they certainly do not grant wishes. The woman opened the door of her cramped apartment and picked up the package. It offered no return address, but she did not hesitate to tear into it. She shrieked in horror when she beheld my pale arms. Though my fingers reached out to her for help, she threw them, box and all, back outside. They would be weapons for the homeless while waiting patiently for an owner, for a body.

Box number 2 was left at an office in a big city. When the sweet secretary delivered my torso to the doctor inside, he squealed with pleasure as he wiped the shredded newspaper from me. He prodded my chubby belly and exclaimed, "A torso! How fun! I'll fix it up, give it lipo! My own personal project!" If only my ears could hear what he was saying so that my head could tell my hands to slap him and make my mouth speak: How dare you?! Alas, disconnected this way, I have no hope.

Box number 3 was sent to an old warehouse. No one uses the place anymore. Drug dealers and prostitutes are the only folks in and out of there. Needless to say, I did not ask my legs where they had been or what had happened. I'd rather not know.

Box number 4 was dropped near the porch swing of a backwoods, county home. The air was sweet here. The weather was perfect. Birds sang a beautiful medley and the fact that I was a misplaced, uncared for head seemed not at all important. If I would have had the rest of my spine, my head would have danced a top it. If I had my thoughts I would have come up with a song to sing with the robins and the blue jays. When a little boy opened the package and I saw the sky here for the first time, it brought tears to my eyes. Soon after I closed them and didn't open them again for a long time. I saw that boy's face. His eyes grew wide and terrified. He gasped and let out a horrendous howl and then was still. His mother put my head in the barn, still in the box. The coons and the coyotes were my only companions and they weren't companions at all. I don't know how, but I didn't end up dinner. I came close several times. I learned later the boy never spoke again after my arrival.


My thoughts were left with a young woman. She was smart, energetic, compassionate. She was not at all upset that she received a seemingly empty box. She wasn't frightened when my thoughts rushed to her, asking where my body had gone. Quite the contrary, she had mercy. She let me seek shelter inside her, opened herself up and gave me temporary residence and let me speak to her from within. She wanted to help me. She wanted to complete me once again, to put me together and make me whole. She promised and I immediately trusted her.

We spent hours discussing a plan and my options. We divulged ourselves in the choices I would have if parts of me had gone missing, or worse-if they had rotted. She offered permanent residency if worse came to worse. We searched the box for information. She called the post office for me. We worked day and night. Day after day. Week after week. Month after month. Year after year. Through holidays and seasons, we never stopped trying.

It was all the same story. Every website we found. Every phone number we called. The scroll, the automated voice, the fine print-it all said the same thing. No seemingly important information was given, only two words: ASSEMBLY REQUIRED. They were repeated over and over and over and over. Assembly required, assembly required, assembly required. It was some nightmare, some broken record. It couldn't be true. Nothing could be more vague. Why, you phantom god? Why? I hope you laugh until you vomit out your horrible soul.

My young host tried. She tried so very hard. I pitied her determination. She was in too deep to let me go. I gave her ambition, a goal. She had purpose now. At least these are the things she told me. "You've given me meaning in life," she told me. I drove her. I drove her right over the edge is what I did.

We spent so many nights crying together, screaming together, knowing there was no hope. I pushed her away from her own life so that, one day, I may have one myself. I destroyed her, more than I could have ever destroyed the little boy who happened upon my head. It's cruel, but I still say it's her own fault. She invited me in. I woke up one day, still in her head, and I peaked out through her eyes. I made them cry after I saw what I had done to her. Her whole house was covered. Every single wall.

ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED ASSEMBLY REQUIRED

I can't get out. She won't let me out.

Reviews

[Natalie C]

Hey Rachel, I personally think this is a brilliant idea for a book. Hmm, I can just see it, you must really think of expanding this my friend.

The subject was refreshingly different and very original. Loved how you described the boxes and their destinations, however I couldn't help but to notice that you didn't write about all the boxes. Maybe you should have a look at that, I'm curious... Ha ha

Well I apologize for taking so long getting to this, but I am glad I did. Wonderfully written, keeping your readers attention throughout the whole story.
I really enjoyed this!