Psychedelic children's tales, penned by Chuck Norris, is mythology. First, he would never order ergot fungus on rye. Secondly, he never met Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. However, He built an incredible dimensional machine that transcends time and imagination.
Chuck’s device was clogging up his garage, and I traded with him at his yard sale. Hush! Some things are best kept a secret. Chuck did have one condition: its name was Box. Look, it was a good deal for me. Just think what I can save on airfare.
So now you know the story of how Box took up residence in my garage. I guess I gave a new meaning to trade. Since Chuck built it, I had to try out Box. I got inside and noticed that there were only five buttons, none of which were color-coded. Chuck did not give me a manual, and he was off fighting another world-domination plot.
Exit Box and think this through. What is the worst that could happen? There is the possibility that I land somewhere in time beside an active volcano or next to some gigantic and hungry beast. I am not Chuck. I cannot simply pummel any random monster. Surely, he must have tried this out and got bored with it.
Then I remembered that I had a spare biometrics device in my mom’s garage. Duh! I cannot just show up at mom’s empty-handed. Soon after the second batch of walnut-chocolate-chip cookies came out of the oven, I bravely and carefully tested them for mouthfeel, texture, and eatability. I could not be taking chances with my mom.
After the obligatory kisses, kisses, hugs, and Sonny-I-miss-your-face conversational starter, we crossed over alternative solutions to Fermat's Last Theorem. The discourse caused Charles Lutwidge Dodgson’s name to come up.
The mathematician's mention was my opening. “Mumsy, how fascinating that you should bring that up. You have reminded me that I still have a biometrics device tucked away in your garage.”
Soon after mum’s incredible performance of Sonny-remember-your-poor-decrepit-mother-all-alone-except-for-the-birds soliloquy, I once again became a man on a mission.
Once inside the Box, I realized that my Infrared LED was up in the attic. I was beginning to understand why Chuck put the Box out in a yard sale. Work had to be easier than this expedition.
Finally, I was in the Box with seemingly all the right equipment. The second button from the left was the only one ever used. If this were not Chuck involved, I would be thinking of a horror flick, The Second Button from the Left. The decision to be an adventurer in the morning appealed to me.
Edited Lutron credit
In the night season, I had a rather smug look as I lay upon my bed. Time has its unique structure. I found myself standing outside of the Box with Chuck. I realized that it was a dream and I allowed myself to keep going. I asked Chuck what the buttons were. In a dry, deadpan, he spoke, “Left to right, they are Time, Imagination, Dimensional, Time and Dimensional, and Time and Dimensional and Imagination.”
I asked him, “How do I use them and what is the purpose of each one?” He gave me a faint smile, and I woke. I lie there frustrated and curious, at the same time. I desperately wanted to ask more of Chuck. However, one does not call up Chuck Norris in the middle of the night. I focused my mind that I would pick back up the dream. I floated with some clouds.
As my vision restored the former dream, I was at the Box with Chuck. “I saw that you journeyed with Imagination. What exactly is that?”
He answered most stoically, “Your creativity has no limits. No rules apply.”
I responded, “Okay, Mr. Norris, what did it do for you?”
Again, he gives me that all-knowing-eye look and spoke, “It brought you here, Grasshopper.” Wait, this was not the way a lucid dream should be working. Poor Chuck was confusing himself with David Carradine. I figured I would have to try the no-limits, no-rules adventure. So after excessive bowing to Chuck and long goodbyes, I stepped into Box.
I stared at the second button from the left. I took several deep breaths. I pulled out my Imagination License to ensure that it was current. After several more deep breaths, I took out my last will. I pressed the button. It did not seem that anything happened. I was hoping that Chuck hadn’t scammed me.
I exited Box to see if there were loose wires or a wall plug. Whoa! Just stop the whole universe here. A young woman in a bluish pinafore dress stood and then curtsied. “Who are you?” I asked.
She smiled faintly and said, “I am Bertha.”
I chucked and remarked, “You remind me of Alice.”
I was still having my jollies until she quipped, “She’s my sister.”
I woke up with a start. I thought about how freaky the whole dream sequence was. Still trying to clear my head, the phone rang, and it was Mumsy. She wanted me over immediately. Hmm; she sounded rather excited. I had to find out what this was about right away.
After feeling that Mumsy had cracked several of my ribs with her hugs, we sat down together in her living room. She triumphantly declared that we now had a poultry farm. It seems her great-aunt left it to her in her will. I had to ask, “Mumsy, what are we supposed to do with a poultry farm.?”
She proceeded with four-part harmony and vivid detail of our future food empire. I tried explaining to her that after hiring people that there were little profit and all kinds of stress and headaches with such an enterprise. Time passed, and I managed to escape to home in the mid-afternoon.
Upon opening the garage, I went into Box. Just like in my dream, I pressed the Imagination button. I quickly got out, and there was Bertha, just like in the dream. I explained all the I had been going through for most of a day. She took me by the hand and pointed to the sky. All I could was a mass of colors. “Okay,” I said, “It’s pretty.”
She replied, “Is that all you see?
I nodded. Bertha grabbed my hand and led me into Box, and she pressed the Imagination button. When we got out, we were at the poultry farm. Bertha furrowed her eyebrows at me and spoke, “You need to do this the easy way.”
With that, she entered Box and reappeared with a wide-bodied, loud woman. We walked over to the assembly line where the live chickens first arrive. Bertha positioned the woman there. She turned to me and declared, “From now on, this is place is Alice’s Poultry Farm.”
Bertha started the conveyor. She said, “In case you haven’t figured it all out, this, ahem, lady is The Red Queen.”
We were interrupted by screaming, “Off with their heads.”
As the blood flew, I realized that Mumsy and I would not have to hire that many employees. Before long we made enough earnings to purchase garages for our garages.