Senior Citizen Carl

Carl groans and mumbles to himself as he eventually make his way to the door, he is in no rush to do so; it was probably some bible thumper dispensing opinions no one asked for or some kinda door-to-door salesman, though he has to admit he hasn't seen any of those in ages. Whatever the case, he knows for a fact he doesn't remember ordering anything. "Maybe...just maybe...its a gift from my nephew?" The thought appeals to him and brings a smile across his face. He isn't particularly confident of it, but it never hurt to try and be positive. Carl liked to think of himself as a realist rather than a pessimist like other senior citizens he has heard speak at his ripe age of 60 years old. He wasn't going to pretend everything was fine and dandy but he also wasn't going to wallow in self pity or demand the world change its issues overnight or something of the sort. He is a retired man of science, military sciences to be specific. He knows how to be both pragmatic and cautious but not paranoid or cynical either. Logic is an important and useful tool, but using it to make everyone else sad is not okay in his book. "Some of my colleagues always give my grief for my 'far to chipper attitude,' as they like to call it."

As Carl finishes his daydreaming, he reaches his hand to the door knob, whatever it is, hopefully it will be worth interrupting him reading the comics included in the newspaper. After all, his friends keep him informed about the sports and there is very rarely anything worth reading in the main headlines of the newspapers. He twists the knob and sighs happily at the fresh air, a benefit to the disturbance that he momentarily forgot about. As he looks down he notices the plain, brown box. Having received many packages in his life, he makes no real assumptions about what it could possibly be. It better not be some speck of something wrapped in fifty million layers of plastic and cushioning. "I hate such blatant wastes of resources, and people wonder why the landfills are so bad." He sighs and, done with thinking about what it could be, grabs his walker by the door and uses it and a little doing to flip the box from the ledge of his porch and make it go up into the air just enough to be reached without risking his back. He chuckles to himself as he closes the door behind him and brings it inside. "Ol' Carl's still got it!" He thinks as he sets it on the table beside his chair where he left the newspaper. Carl, even at his current age, has a remarkable amount of strength and has no trouble forcing the box's tape off so he can open it and explore its contents. Now...what is in this box?