The Ghost in the Kleenex Box

17 March 2013 in 20 Minute Stories

*Note – Just a quick one for now inspired by the Kleenex box that keeps rattling magically in the middle of the night.  Let me know if you think I should draw it out a bit more.  Enjoy!

rattle rattle rattle thunk thunk thunk

Jean-Jacques slowly opened his eyes and glanced over at the clock – 3:34 am – this was now six days in a row.

rattle rattle rattle

It wasn’t really a big deal.  None of this ever went beyond the rattling, but he had yet to figure out its cause.

“Pierre, tell me why this box of tissues must dance every morning at 3:34!”

No response.

“Pierre, you are as lazy as you are beautiful.”

Pierre’s left hind leg shot up in the air as he started to lick his unmentionables.  The small grey tabby seemed to be rather indifferent to the dancing box of tissues and unwilling to offer Jean-Jacques some sort of response.

Jean-Jacques grabbed the tissue box, sh0ok it about, then took out one tissue and blew his large nose and wiped his bushy moustache clean.  For some reason, shaking the box seemed to calm it down enough to keep it from dancing for another day.  He stared the tissue box down for a moment longer.  “Enough from you eh! I have to be up for work in two hours!”

The tissue box stared back in silence.  It desperately wished that it could respond to the giant lumberjack, but no words could escape it – only tissues.  And with each tissue that was removed from the depths of its rectangular body, its life on earth was shortened.  It was afraid.  What came  next for the tissue box?  Heaven? Hell? An eternity in a landfill?  Not knowing filled the tissue box with dread and fear.  And the only one seemingly able to hear his cries for help or attention was Pierre, the small grey tabby who seemed to care nothing about anything that wasn’t rubbing his belly.

“If you’re done you’re dance, it’s time for me to sleep again eh?” asked Jean-Jacques.

The tissue box sat silently, exhausted from its previous attempt to communicate and Jean-Jacques shaking what little energy it had out of it.

Jean-Jacques flicked the light off again.  The tissue box turned its attention to Pierre.  His foot was still pointing straight up in the air, but his stare was now keenly on the box of tissues.

“He belongs to me,” meowed Pierre.  He lowered his head to finish the business he started moments ago.

The tissue box waited helplessly.  In 24 hours, he would try again.

17 March 2013 20 Minute Stories

1 Comment to The Ghost in the Kleenex Box

  1. love it….and not just because you’re you…

  2. Theresa on 17 March 2013