Zack Smith worked the combination lock on his mailbox, reached into the narrow, metal slot and retrieved his mail. He immediately took notice of the small shipping box with the address label so carefully written in his uncle's hand.
"LOOKS LIKE UNCLE B'S PACKAGE GOT HERE," Zack said. "JUST LIKE HE SAID IT WOULD."
He considered opening the box, but a glance at his wristwatch showed him he was already running behind schedule to get to basketball practice.
Remembering his uncle's somewhat obsessive request that he treat the package with care, he unzipped his gym bag and put the small cardboard container among his workout clothes, some fresh from the wash, some not quite so fresh, including his pair of practice Size 14 sneakers.
He cushioned the box between a worn T-shirt and a pair of his boxer-briefs.
"I CAN OPEN IT LATER BACK IN MY ROOM," he muttered before he zipped up the gym bag and hoisted it over his shoulder.
*******
Bryan felt the box lifted, and tried to prepare himself for the inevitable jolts as some unseen giant held the box. The period of violent jostling proved unexpectedly short lived. He heard a grinding noise like metal against metal (as his nephew zipped the bag closed) and then the box began to sway back and forth again.
It wasn't long before an intense odor wafted through the air holes the scientist had punched into various locations in the box to ensure a supply of vital air during shipment. Now, he almost wished he hadn't taken that precaution as the reeking odor of sweaty jockwear permeated the interior of the box.
The tiny scientist coughed and gagged as the stench grew even more intense without any fresh air entering the closed gym bag.
*******
Zack arrived in the locker room to find most of his teammates already changed into their practice uniforms. He unzipped his bag and removed the clothing he needed, shoving aside the package in his haste.
He changed quickly and was ready to zip the bag closed when Chad, the team's towering center, approaching him with a sheepish look on his face.
"Zack, do you still have that spray?" Chad asked as he scratched at his crotch. "I'm itching bad."
Zack laughed. The lanky basketball player had suffered from jock itch and athlete's foot ever since he had known him. "Fungus loves you, Chad," Zack ribbed his teammate.
"Do you have it or not?"
Zack stood. "It's in my gym bag," he said. "Just put it back when you're done."
Zack hurried from the locker room, not really wanting a repeat of the time when Chad had unashamedly applied the spray right in front of him.
Chad walked over and picked the gym bag off the floor. Placing the bag on a bench, he began to dig through the shamble of contents to find the spray canister. In the process, he removed a small box. He left the container perched precariously on the bench as he continued looking.
"THERE IT IS!" Chad exclaimed.
At that moment, the shipping package dropped from the edge of the bench, landing on the tile floor.
Chad applied the spray and gave a deep sigh of relief. He then returned the canister to Zack's bag, but never bothered to pick the small box off the floor as he hurried to join his teammates.
*****
Bryan had just started to feel better when some unseen giant again began moving the box. Then the moving stopped, only to be followed a moment later by a lurching drop and a sudden hard impact.
When he recovered, he decided to...
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