[WP] God orders Earth from Ikea. After 3 to 4 working days, it comes. Flat packed

This can't be too bad, Earl said, with a grin that stretched his lower lip to peak tautness. He glanced over his shoulder at his almost-complete collection of hex keys, fastened to tool hooks along a conspicuously clean and unworn slat board. I've got the tools. I've got this.

When life kicks in, I hope they call me Earl, Earl thought. Earl liked the sound of Earl. If he ever solved the mystery of his own existence, he hoped that it would take the form of an "x" on the left hand side of the equals sign and "Earl" on the other. Earl had just the right amount of amicability to it, and it sounded distinctly unmenacing. No one could possibly slit the throat of a ram or push anyone across the top of a volcano in the name of Earl.

The mailman had unloaded a corrugated box on his doorstep, a box whose appearance could best be described as a regular and unassuming parallelepiped.

Dang. If Plato gets born in Sweden, geometry will never progress past the cube, Earl thought.

"VÄRLDSRYMDEN: JORDEN" was printed across the creamy-matte surface of the box in a nondescript sans-serif that evoked the ebullience and warmth of a Scandinavian winter morning. Or, almost. From Earl's point of view it said "uǝpɹoظ :uǝpɯʎɹspןɹɐʌ", and the inferior side of the box that was now resting against the parking mat happened to have a red arrow prominently stamped across it.

Earl decided to plant the exacto knife solemnly in the very center of what was now the posterior side of said box. That felt like a prominent spot, and planting it there seemed fitting when dealing with the grand deboxing of a new Earth. With several swift cuts, the flap was reduced to shreds, and the box was ready to spill forth its well kept innards.

FUCK. CUNT. SHIT. BALLS. Earl said.

A finite but unpleasantly large number of pieces violently scattered out of the box with a big bang. The assembly instructions promptly fell to the ground with the exacto knife poking through the center, looking as if the situation warranted a thoroughly done harakiri.

This is going to fuck with the background radiation, for sure, Earl thought. I hope the poor bastards won't read too much into it. Earl saw the base globe rolling away along the floor.

WHAT? COME ON! That is all that's needed to deform it into an oblate spheroid?! What ever happened to material quality standards?!

/r/WritingPrompts Thread