Little Stalky's Cardboard Box

When I left school and with plans of one day becoming an actress, I did a degree in theatre and creative writing, which turned out to be one of the weirdest courses in the world.  Find your inner seaweed and all that.  For the record, I think I do a rather good impression of seaweed, but I suppose that's a matter of opinion.  Anyway, as part of my course I had to do some contextual art, creating performance in live surroundings and random stuff like that.  Somehow I managed to drag Mystical Roo and Monster Noggin into my plans and we headed into the city to create "art".  In my wisdom I had the idea of creating an interactive cardboard box.  A box that would silently communicate with and possibly freak out the public.  A box that I would hide in as we encouraged people to write messages on our box.  A box that I would maneuver into a cunning shuffle as I attempted to confuse shoppers.  Hold on.  That bloody box is moving.  How could this possibly be?  Wasn't that box over there.  It must be a ghost box.  This is the only logical explanation.  Much more logical than a random girl hiding within a box in the name of "art".  I'm not sure where we got our box from in the end but it was just big enough so that I could crouch inside without bursting from the sides.  We poked me some air holes, you know, just in case and set about leaving me in the middle of a semi busy square.  Monster Noggin and Mystical Roo were able to hide at a safe distance, disassociating themselves from the person in the box whilst filming the action.  I sat in that box feeling like a total fruit loop and wondered how I would eventually get out of my box discreetly and in a ladylike fashion.  I took a peep through my makeshift eye hole and noticed that no one was paying much attention to my random box.  I decided I'd do a little box shuffle.  Cause a stir.  I'm lucky I didn't fall over in that thing.  That would have been embarrassing.  Stuck head first in a box, on your face with just your legs hanging out the end.  Bad box etiquette.  Anyway, it got the attention of a little boy who saw the invitation to write on my box.  Give the box a message.  And he did.  He had a pen - which in retrospect was something we hadn't considered.  Why should anyone be carrying around a pen to write on a box.  And why did this small boy have a pen - and scribbled on the box before happily wandering back to his parents.  Excellent.  The plan was working.  People were indeed communicating with the box.  Well, one person.  A small child actually.  But still.  Better than a kick in the box.  The next group to notice my box was a trio of teenagers and even as I saw them approach I had a bad feeling and suddenly felt strangely exposed in my little box.  Teenagers?  Bored on a Saturday afternoon?  Armed inexplicably with pencil cases and sweets?  Me and my box were a dream come true.  At first they were nice to the box, if a little rough with their pens and I could hear them drawing all over it.  I suppose it was giving me material but I couldn't help but be suspicious of their motives.  After interacting with the box with their pens and crayons they then tried to interact with the box verbally too.  Well honestly.  Boxes don't speak!  That's the whole point.  So I had to keep quiet whilst they tried to get answers from the box.  Who was in the box?  What was the box about?  Was I a hobo?  There were vague attempts to peer in through my air holes but it was dark in the box.  Then the teenagers decided that I must be hungry and started to send offerings in through my air holes.  Sweets to be precise.  Well, that's not so bad but seriously, don't block up the air holes. A box has got to breathe you know.  With little reaction to the sweets the teenagers then decided they needed to learn the identity of the box dweller.  At first it was a few shoves and I managed to hold my ground but then there was definite tugging and I had to cling to the box, lest my identity be revealed.  I think at this point I had worked at expanding my body to fill the box, thus rendering it impossible to pull away from me.  I still wonder how I held out against three teenagers.  They must have been really weedy!  By that point I had to wonder when Mystical Roo and Monster Noggin would come to the rescue.  I pictured them bent over with laughter as my box was attacked.  Finally, after what seemed like hours of torture, Monster Noggin came to the rescue, politely informing the teenagers that the box might need a break.  They grudgingly moved on and I was freed from the prison of the box.  I must say, they did leave a number of messages on my box and pictures too.  Creative lot.  But that was the last of the box art.  It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.