The Tuesday that the Anything boxes arrived

The Tuesday that the Anything boxes arrived for everyone was the day that civilization, as we know it, ended. By Thursday,

President Bieber and his staff had been executed. Every nation on Earth had declared martial law. When everyone on the planet can reach into a box and withdraw absolutely anything

they wanted, the planet becomes glutted with clutter, fast. The means of production had exceeded the means of consumption. Some signed up to become GMO landfill munchers, but

filled with cheese

and when the mixture of Gruyere and Vacherin Fribourgeois reached the right consistency I gingerly dipped my foot in and then gradually slid into the tub. Ahhh.. Cheese hot tubbing

was my guilty pleasure. Not because bathing in a jacuzzi of cheese is weird, but because I'm just Mr. Gorgonzola's plumber and can only afford that American non-cheese stuff. I

won't lie though, after a while that gross American Cheese kind of grows on you. Literally. I have weird patches of cheese growing all over myself. The mice are a nightmare.

Mice mock American cheese. They lean back on their little mousie haunches and squeak; some are sarcastic, some ironic, all disapprove. I now regret my attempt to clone

Mickey. He was the worst of them all. Talk about a snob, he turns his big circular nose to everything not Disney-related. There's a whole big world out there, you uppity rodent.