There's a pun about pulp in here, I know it.

We interrupt your boring lives for a breaking news story; I think my life's gotten more ridiculous since I've been on these meds. I would imagine that this would normalize my mood, which I guess it has. Hasn't done a damn thing for the events occurring in my life, and sometimes I almost want to believe that some of this is just some really awkward trip. I guess after my head ran out of creativity as of late, weird shit's decided to start happening to make the fictionalized life I've developed... look fucking normal. Let me explain.

It's been an odd couple of months or so because things have been normal here. I haven't felt any tension, I've been calm, I've been getting my life together. Things are peaceful. It's quite nice, and I know it's odd for you people to hear the word “nice” in the same sentence and positive context as “my life”, but it's true. But today, today was special. Because it's probably the angriest I've heard my dad in quite a long time. I'm just minding my own business being a recluse in my room and gushing over Anime DVDs because I like dick, and then I hear him yelling. And this is mean yelling. I didn't know what he was prancing on about, but I heard “GET THAT MOTHERFUCKER ON THE PHONE OR I'M GOING TO FIND HIM AND KILL HIM” in several variants and all assortment of charming nuances to his speech. He had the fire in his eyes. Or I would at least assume so, I wasn't leaving my fucking room when he's raging about like a sociopath.

But I was curious what was occurring. She said she had to keep quiet about it or something, I couldn't really tell. She couldn't tell. And my dad was yelling about what that boy made her do, and suddenly my blood started to boil and my protective sibling instincts started to kick in, and I started indulging myself in fantasies in finding this kid and slitting him up the middle with a boxcutter. And that says a lot about me as a person, nothing good I would add. When a 24-year old man is filled with enough of a preoccupying malice that he can direct legitimate, fleshed-out adult hatred towards a high-schooler that he wanted to end the life of in an agonizing manner, it says nothing good. But I listened a bit more, and from what I gathered it sounded like my sister was holding on to something a boy at school wanted her to keep safe. ...uh oh. Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy oh boy that's not a smart thing to do. That is a dark path to go down. And my friends, it is a dark path to go down. I won't say I've went down that path, but I will say it was easy to find people to give it away to when I thought I had too much, and I did at some points. What I'm talking about are energy cards for the Pokemon TCG, because people needed load up 30 or 40 of those motherfuckers into their decks to ever actually have enough energy to make the damn pokemon useful.

Or I might've been talking about drugs, okay I was talking about drugs. But still, the premise is the same.

I mean, this is a big deal. I never would've expected it from her. She's a 15-year old recluse who's on her laptop all day. SHE'S ME WHEN I STILL HAD SHAME LEFT. Granted I was doing all manner of unsavory things when I was 15, I was almost in disbelief that she wouldn't hold onto her integrity. Maybe she was bullied into it. Maybe she was scared and wanted people to think nicely of her for doing these kinds of things for them. Because she's naive and nice and dumb as a post. But I could understand entirely, things like this happen as a kid. You have to nip them in the bud before they become a problem, and giving the kid a stern talking to might set him straight. Which is nice for my father, because as he put it while he was talking to this kid, "I'm a crazy hard-ass Italian, I don't fuck around with people.” And he doesn't, my dad doesn't fuck around with people. My dad has lost jobs for getting into fights with people. One of my more vivid memories of my youth is when my mom is trying to back out of the drive way, he starts smashing in the side of the car door with a bat. If there are pissing contests of “My dad could beat up your dad” occurring, I throw my gloves into the ring with everybody else. I would find his overprotective behavior of his daughter admirable, and his actions appropriately badass if the man didn't put the fear of God into me like he undoubtedly put into this child.

“I'm not going to open the boxes, I don't want to know what kind of shit is in there.” So hold the fuck on, I haven't left my room yet, but we had shit MAILED to us? We had things in boxes mailed to us that she was supposed to hold onto? I mean, I just, I mean, I just... HOW THE FUCK DO YOU GET AWAY WITH THAT? What the fuck were we supposed to do, just let her go “Oh he's using our address to receive shit in the mail, it's okay right?” We don't even know what the fuck is in them. There could be a human foot in one of those boxes that's hollowed out and filled with anthrax, and that would be okay? Or it could be drugs or guns, that's probably more likely right, probably more likely. I overhear him mention that he doesn't believe that they're computer parts. Why the fuck couldn't he have computer parts mailed to his house instead? What are his parents going to do? Are they Korean and were they going to beat the shit out of him for cheaping out and not getting good parts to run Starcraft 2 and Dota 2 at max settings? Who the fuck is buying a lie like that?

So I zone out for a bit, and the whole situation seems to have settled, and I go out there to see what's up, before I can say anything I see them and the boxes are enormous. They're about two to three feet in height about two feet in width. I give them a push. They're heavy. I assumed my sister was meant to intersect them, but I doubt her capabilities to even lift them. These are heavy boxes. These are not computer parts. Now the thing that baffles me is that my house is small. It is a two-bedroom apartment where my sister's bed is in the living room. That is to emphasize how little of space we have here. ...how do YOU think we wouldn't have noticed them? There's no place to hide them. There's no place to hide them. THERE'S NO FUCKING PLACE TO HIDE THEM. WHERE THE FUCK WOULD THEY GO, UP MY FUCKING ASS? AND YOU THINK WE WOULDN'T ASK? THAT WE WOULDN'T QUESTION IT? THAT WE WOULDN'T QUESTION WHY THREE BIG FUCKING BOXES JUST SHOWED THE FUCK UP ON OUR DOORSTEP FROM CHINA AND THAT SHE WANTS TO HOLD THEM FOR A FRIEND?

...I almost don't want to begrudge her for it because that's just so fucking stupid of her. I realized why shit started rolling around in my room, why shit on my shelves start falling off towards my doorway. Because as the conversation between her and my father ensued, the center of gravity... was shifting towards my sister's head in the living room. And we got somebody else that didn't scare the kid to ask what was in there, and we opened them. You know what were in the boxes? You might want to sit down for this. I know I had to. Juicers were in the boxes. Yes, juicers. JUICERS. Big fucking appliances. So my sister and the kid came clean and the kid had apparently been getting this shit from China or warehouses or some shit I don't know and selling them to people. His family didn't like that, so he couldn't have them mailed to his house anymore. So we'd have this shady-ass kid showing up here to pick up his shit so he can go peddle it or sell it or something.

......Is there some sort of underground black market for smuggled kitchen appliances that I don't know about? You know, enough of one that this would seem like an adequate means of income? More maybe the kid was smart and he just found his niche, I don't know. I mean my question is, well, how the fuck would you sell it? You can't just show up on the street at 3am and go “YO NIGGA I GOT WHAT YOUS NEED HEUH, THIS SHIT BE TRIPPIN'. IT EVEN FILTERS OUT ALL DA PULP AND SHIT SO IT GOES DOWN SMOOTH, BITCH,” there has to be a market to sell this kind of shit to.

Instead of beating the shit out of him, I probably would've just told the kid that he would've been better off selling drugs.