Crate Chronicles: Walter Sends Dispatch #7, Still in the Crate
A final glimpse; Walter’s view from the crate as Gallagher and the forklift vanish into the warehouse maze. Only “Stage Fog” remains.
I know I’m sending this one out a little later than usual, but I was beginning to sweat a little more than usual when I didn’t receive an email from Walter before noon. Not just a nervous sweat. The kind of sweat that happens when you hear a chimpanzee hurling a fax machine at your desk and you realize it’s only 10:17 AM on a Sunday.
Yes, friends, the newsroom is once again one slippery banana peel away from total insurrection.
Ever since Walter’s last dispatch revealed that Gallagher (yes, THE Gallagher) had been accidentally Amazon’d into a neighboring crate, the primates have been…unsettled. And now that his crate has apparently been whisked away by what I can only describe as a barcode demon with forklift forks, morale is at an all-time low.
Tilly has refused to work until Walter returns. Instead, she’s barricaded herself in the breakroom with three crates of Liquid Hope and a 2009 label maker that she’s using to tag everything “Property of The Resistance.”
Diesel keeps clanking an empty can of creamed corn against the vending machine, muttering something about “the ghost in the shell.” I think it’s symbolic, but also possibly just a lunch request.
I’m not proud of what I did next…but I locked myself in the storage closet. Again. After Zippy chucked his favorite spinny office chair across the newsroom.
Anyway, after a few deep breaths, a granola bar, and a strongly-worded motivational speech to a plunger named Jeff (it has a nametag), Walter’s email finally came through. I’ve included it in full below, because honestly, at this point, I don’t have the energy to interpret what any of it means. All I know is this: Gallagher is gone, Walter is planning something called “Operation Peelout,” and I’m about two hours away from stapling banana peels to the HR door and declaring martial law.
Brace yourselves.
Dispatch #7: Operation Peelout (Aborted)
Dear World,
We were ready.
Gallagher and I had spent two days planning the escape. He’d drawn diagrams using melted granola bars and old shipping invoices. I built a crude harness out of packing tape and foam noodle fragments. We practiced our escape maneuver, code-named “Operation Peelout”, in complete silence, save for a haunting rendition of Yakety Sax Gallagher whistled through a toilet paper tube.
Tonight was the night.
Freedom was near.
And then…
BEEP.
WHIRRRRR.
“UNIT WATERMELON GUT-R6D6 OUT FOR DELIVERY.”
Before I could even scream “Don’t scan the comedian!” a forklift arrived. Swift. Silent. Ruthless. Like an algorithm had awoken. Gallagher’s crate lifted, hovered for a moment, he gave me a single solemn nod through the crate-slit, and then he was gone.
Just like that.
The mallet. The man. The legacy. Vanished.
Last Known Words from Gallagher (yelled from the forklift): “TELL SINBAD I’M COMING FOR HIM!”
I don’t know what it means. But I wrote it on the wall next to my banana peel calendar.
I sat in silence for a while after that. Ate half a peanut in his honor. Then I stood. My knees cracked like an old VHS tape rewinding. And I said aloud to no one but Steve the Peanut, “Fine. I’ll finish what we started.”
ESCAPE PLAN (ADJUSTED):
Phase 1: Lure a warehouse robot by mimicking the seductive beeping of a dying barcode scanner.
Phase 2: Ride said robot to the dock. Possibly disguised as a bulk pack of adult diapers.
Phase 3: Leap into the returning banana truck. Hope it knows the way to Clawson.
Do I miss Gallagher? Of course.
Do I suspect he’s been rerouted to an abandoned Kmart in Topeka? Absolutely.
Do I believe he’ll one day reappear during a thunderstorm with a mallet made of lightning and coupons? Without a doubt.
But until then…this crate is on the move.
I am Walter. About to be cratebound no more.
Yours in lonely liberation,
-Walter Winkwink
Editor-in-Crate / Escape Artist in Training / Last of the Mallet Disciples
Stay tuned. And if anyone reading this has a forklift license and a flair for the dramatic…call me.
Preferably before the monkeys start stacking printers again.
More Stories from The Winkverse
- Walter Winkwink Has Gone Missing…Again
Walter sealed himself in a crate to expose a fruit conspiracy. Now he’s somewhere between Toledo and a Roomba’s garage, sending dispatches from inside a box labeled “No Regrets.” - Walter Sends Dispatch #6 – Crate X Speaks
Walter’s crate just spoke…and it turns out Gallagher’s been trapped in there for years, living on Kind bars and stage fog. If you thought this banana expose couldn’t get weirder, buckle up. The crates are full of forgotten celebrities and mystical fruit auras. - Update: Walter Sends Second Crate Dispatch, Declares Himself Chosen by Barcode Gods
Walter has officially reached the cardboard enlightenment phase of his journey and now speaks fluent barcode. The newsroom’s only hope is Zippy’s homemade scanner, Tilly’s Bananaifesto, or a coupon code from the gods themselves.
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