Diary of a brown paper box

December 2, 2011

“I am scared for my life. This could very well be my last one.”

“Would you please stop? You’re such a drama queen! How many lives did you already have?” asked the box on my right.

“It doesn’t matter. We always worry about the last one. I am a brown paper box, made from the finest pulp. I could have held a gift for a seven-year-old girl’s birthday. I could have helped someone move to a new apartment. You know, there was a time where I held a beautiful wedding gift for a young couple. The bride’s aunt sent them a beautiful gravy boat made of the finest China. There was another time where I held the author’s first copies. He was a struggling author, who waited so long to get published. Why did Najeeb have to be my owner? Najeeb, an American citizen, born to a Pakistani immigrant father and an American music teacher, is torn between two cultures. He said he is going to put a bomb in me!”

“I was bought with you on the same day and from the same store. We will all share the same destiny,” retorted the box on my left.

“Hey, Najeeb folded and taped me. He is going to use me.”

“Hush, I hear him coming into the room. Don’t get us in trouble,” cautioned the box on my right.

Najeeb entered the room and sat to have his nightly video chat. A picture of a beautiful woman appeared in the chat box. We quietly listened to their conversation.

“Sister Talia, how are you tonight? Are you busy?”

“I was just brushing my luscious black hair and waiting for you to sign in,” a sensuous woman’s voice answered.

“I am almost ready to give you your dowery. God willing, it will be a glorious day.

On December ninth, I will kill hundreds of infidels and avenge all the injustices done to Muslim brothers everywhere.

“God willing, sister Talia, that will be my dowery to you.”

“May God protect you, brother Najeeb! Where will you do that greatest, heroic act?”

“I will do it during the lighting of the Christmas tree downtown at the Fountain place. Will you let me see your face tonight?”

“Brother Najeeb, you know that I am a shy virgin. Are you sure this is the date you will do it? I want to be praying for you at the same time.”

“I am sorry, sister Talia. I didn’t mean to ask you again. I can wait to see you after I pay your dowery.”

“You know I have never asked you to do that, brother Najeeb. Why did you choose the lighting of the Christmas tree ceremony? Don’t you think there will be children there?”

“Of course, there will be children. The infidels’ children! You are a weak woman, your religious conviction is not as a strong as mine. That’s okay. When we get married, things will get better for you.”

I wished I didn’t overhear the conversation. I panicked. December ninth was only a week away. Talia, if that was indeed her name, ended the chat. Najeeb watched another Al Qaeda bomb-making tutorial and fell asleep in the chair. I hated the catchy tune in that video. Najeeb always watches Al Qaeda videos and then he constantly hums that tune.

I turned to the box on my right. “Pssst, did you hear? Najeeb is going to do it. I will become an accessory to murder.”

“Maybe Najeeb will fail. He is only learning to make the bomb from a video online. Remember, he is the same guy who didn’t get a date to the prom.”

“Best case scenario, I could see myself in the news and the headline reads: ‘Suspicious package wrapped in brown paper was discovered.’ Worst case scenario, I will be the tool Najeeb uses to kill hundreds of innocent people.”

December 8, 2011

Najeeb was feeling proud of his homemade bomb. I could tell because he kept humming as he finished all the steps. He heard of failed bombing attempts, but he was sure of his success. Talia’s picture appeared. Najeeb answered her call.

“Brother Najeeb, I am calling to check on you.”

“Sister Talia, I do not want you to worry. Islam will triumph tomorrow. God willing, I will pay your dowery.”

“Brother Najeeb, is there any way I can convince you to change your mind?”

“Sister Talia, you have the weak heart of women. I have the strong heart of men. I forgive you for your weakness. God willing, I will become your husband and protector, once I pay your dowery tomorrow.”

Talia sighed. “Brother Najeeb, what time should I watch the news?”

“The lighting ceremony will start at 5:30 and the bomb will harvest the souls of infidels exactly at six.”

Najeeb finished his chat. He cleaned his room while humming. He ironed his shirt and pants, still humming that Al Qaeda video tune. I wished there was any other noise to drown his humming. I wished for rain, snow, anything to stop his humming.

December 9, 2011

I said goodbye to my friends, the boxes on my right and left, and prepared myself for my pending doom. At four, Najeeb woke up from his nap, cheerful and happy. He did his afternoon prayers and put the bomb inside me. Then he carefully picked me up and went for coffee. He attempted to flirt with the barista, that one with the short purple hair and tattooed neck. She didn’t even smile. Najeeb’s hands were clammy from the embarrassment. I wondered if the barista had smiled at him, what would have happened? Would Najeeb have turned around and changed his mind about the bomb?

Najeeb parked his car and carried me as he headed to the Fountain place. He intended to activate the bomb I was carrying a bomb with the cell phone in his pocket. I knew it was a matter of minutes before I would hear the countdown inside me. Beads of sweat from his hands moistened the beautiful brown paper coat that I was wearing. I was starting to feel hopeful. I thought maybe he had changed his mind.

Suddenly, I heard loud screams. A swarm of agents surrounded him. Everything happened so quickly. Najeeb surrendered. The bomb was diffused, and I was saved. I was bagged and tagged.

It turned out, Talia was a law enforcement asset recording and reporting their conversation. She had to make sure that she was not encouraging him to commit crimes. She was flirting with him to get the information needed. What a relief.

January 21, 2013

Now, I live the rest of my days on a shelf in the evidence locker. I made new friends and I enjoy talking to the other boxes. I heard that Najeeb was charged with attempted use of a weapon of mass destruction and attempted mass murder. I was happy when I heard later that he got three life terms, plus 50 without parole. The justice system works – well, at least sometimes. There is never a dull moment around the evidence locker. A new box appeared to my left, and it has pictures from a murder scene and a murder weapon!