Walter Sends Dispatch #6 – Crate X Speaks

At this point, I’ve stopped asking questions and started bracing for the next transmission.

This morning, I received Dispatch #6 from Walter.

If you’re just catching up: our Editor-in-Chief, Walter Winkwink, sealed himself inside a shipping crate in a misguided attempt to uncover corruption in the banana supply chain. The plan was to spring out dramatically when the next banana shipment arrived in Clawson.

Instead, Walter was scanned, barcoded, shipped off, and has since gone missing inside an Amazon fulfillment center in an unknown location, possibly Kentucky, possibly New Jersey, possibly the haunted Roomba garage we keep pretending doesn’t exist.

We’ve been receiving dispatches from him via what appears to be a hotspot connected to something called “JeffV’sGarageCam.”

And now this.

Dispatch #6: Crate X Speaks

Dear Readers,

It happened. After days of cryptic knocks and rogue foam peanuts, Crate X has finally responded. Not with a thud. Not with a sticker. With…a voice.

A faint shuffle. A groan. Then the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat like a deflating balloon animal. And then…

“HEY WALTER. IT’S ME. GALLAGHER.”

Yes. Gallagher. The sledgehammer‑wielding, watermelon‑obliterating comedian of late‑night cable and county fairs. The man who taught a generation that comedy could be sticky, dangerous, and involve fruit insurance.

He’s been here the whole time. Inside Crate X.

Apparently Amazon accidentally “Prime’d” him years ago while he was trying to ship a new mallet prototype. He’s been bouncing around fulfillment centers ever since, living off promo peanuts and expired Kind bars.

OUR CONVERSATION (VERBATIM):

Me: “Gallagher?! You’re alive?!”
Gallagher: “Alive? Buddy, I’m fulfilled. They keep scanning me in but never scanning me out. I’m like Schrodinger’s Vaudeville Act.”

Me: “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
Gallagher: “Have YOU ever tried talking from inside a crate? It’s like performing stand‑up at a muffled church potluck.”

Me: “Any advice?”
Gallagher: “Yeah. Never pack bananas near watermelons. It messes with the aura.”

He then slid me a laminated coupon for “One Free Smash” and whispered, “When the time comes, use it wisely.”

IMMEDIATE AFTERMATH:
Crate X now smells faintly of nostalgia and stage fog.
Gallagher keeps telling me jokes about UPS that make no sense but feel profound.
Steve the Packing Peanut fainted twice.
The barcode gods are silent, possibly laughing.

I don’t know how long Gallagher has left in here or if he’s just a mirage conjured by adhesive fumes, but one thing is clear. The crates are not empty. They are archives of forgotten cultural icons, quietly bouncing between warehouses like lost satellites.

Somewhere out there, Sinbad is probably in a bubble mailer.

Stay tuned. The plan is forming. The mallet is ready. The world’s first joint banana expose/watermelon liberation is about to begin.

Yours in smashed fruit and cardboard revelation,
–Walter Winkwink
Editor‑in‑Crate / Crate‑Talk Show Host / Co‑Star with Gallagher

I have no idea where this is going, but we may need to start preparing the newsroom for some sort of rescue. Or maybe a traveling fruit-themed stand-up revival tour.

Either way, the primates are demanding answers, and Diesel “Two Scoops” Malone has started writing his own dispatches to try and compete with Walter’s. They’re mostly just drawings of bananas with swords, but morale is clearly slipping.

More soon. If we’re lucky.

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.”
• Crate Chronicles: The Cratequake, the Cult, and the Chaos
  Walter’s crate just went full tectonic, sparking a banana-powered religion, a barcode-chanting cult, and an HR nightmare so weird even UPS won’t deliver to it.
• 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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Bob Klann

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