Saturday, Nov. 30, 2002 - 8:28 p.m.

Box wasn't especially miserable that day, he was the same as every other day. Highly miserable, but not miserable enough for his misery to be an event in itself. On that particular day, Box was living in a concrete pipe with a puddle in the middle, he lived in a different place everyday, yet never found anywhere he liked. In the morning he had seen six humans kicking rocks at the pipe, and this had provoked the decision that he ought to go and find somewhere new. So he went and found somewhere new. It was not a nice new place, but it suited his purpose. He sat down, and ate a fly. "I wish I had somewhere nice to live," he said. "My life seems to be anchored to the horribleness that my place of living gives off, it's not nice." Box then started to cry, for the third time that day.

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On another day, Box went for a walk. On the way he found his old friend, Spindly McDindly, and went to talk to him. "Hello Spindly," said the toad, glumly.

"Box!" shouted the spider. "I've not seen you in days! Where have you been?"

"Here and there, nowhere interesting," replied the toad, looking up at the spider's web surrounding the area. "Mind if I have one of those flies?"

"Oh, no, not at all. They're just shells, mind, might not be to your tastes."

"I forgot about that." The toad slumped on the ground, like he normally did. Then he looked back to the spider, "I'm hungry, I think I'll go and wander around looking for some insect for a while. Bye, Spindly."

The spider nodded, and crawled back to the top of his silvery web to feast on a struggling fly. The fly tasted good, Spindly enjoyed it. For him, life was always worth living, to see the sun come up, to eat his next meal, take his next breath, spin his next web... Spindly McDindly was happy.

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Three days after their last meeting, Box found Spindly on his back, with his legs all curled upwards tightly. He seemed drier than normal, and didn't talk very much. Box stared for a while, and then hopped away.

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Once, Box found a nest of flies, and he went to eat the flies, and the flies flew away. He was living in a bucket that day, it was yellow.

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Sometime in his life, Box had a strange disease that made his skin turn yellow, and his eyes swell to five times their original size. Box didn't really care about this, he didn't care about anything anymore. The disease subsided, but he never managed to regain his green skin.

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Box the yellow toad once met a little child who was clambering around on the rocks near the pool he was living by. Box had watched him for a while, playing with his toys and being happy. Box envied him. Box wondered where the child's mother was, and after seeing him get a little too close to the pool, he went to stop him.

"Excuse me, little child, but you shouldn't be playing that close to the water, it's very dangerous." Said the toad.

The little boy screamed, toads weren't meant to talk! Then the little boy tried to run, lost his balance, and fell into the pool. Box jumped in after him, but couldn't see much in the eerie darkness other than the child's form somewhere at the bottom of the pool. It wasn't moving. Box swam back to the surface, and sighed.

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One day, Box got talking to a monkey who had escaped from a cruel owner, who tortured monkeys, and might've been a cruel cosmetics tester, too, and maybe a scientist trying to cure baldness, I don't know. The monkey told him many tales of sadness, and Box realised his life wasn't as miserable as the monkey's. He wasn't the most miserable person around anymore, this made him sad. The monkey climbed a tree overhanging the pond, and threw himself in. He couldn't swim. Box decided to move away from deep water.

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Box lived in a saucepan for a while, nobody drowned in it, but someone once tried to boil him. It was unbearably painful, but Box survived. He always seemed to survive. His life was a long and painful one.