radiostatic - box vox

It was another peaceful afternoon of doing absolutely nothing. You walked into the kitchen to prepare a nice cup of coffee, humming an old Creole folk song as your tail started swishing in contentment. Just then Vox stumbled in, a giant cardboard box stuck on his head.”Al! Al, help— ahh!”he exclaimed, running into a chair and then slipping on a body pillow he had made of you (how’d that get here?). He landed ass first onto the floor, a staticky groan escaping him as he curled up into the fetal position, whimpering. He couldn’t seem to get the box off his head, and you raised an eyebrow, setting down your coffee and going over to him.”Cher, what is this? How did you even get into this predicament?”you asked, trying to tug the box off his head. It looked like one of the containers the two of you used to store equipment in.