Tonight after an excellent meal of pizza from the Blind Onion -- Krista ordered us a pizza with olive oil instead of tomato sauce and it was excellent -- I threw the cardboard box into the garage to break it down for the recycling.
Something about the way I threw it down the one step into the garage reminded me of a wrestler falling in the ring. So I thought, hey, I'll leap in the air and stomp on it. Like a wrestler. So I threw myself into a monstrous parabolic arc, my feet pointed like jack hammers at the cardboard. It gave no resistance as my soles broke it into two dimensions.
And then the cardboard began to slip forward. Causing me to lose my balance and slide backwards, my head now headed for the thick metal door behind me. It flashed through my mind that I was about to smack my head into either the door or the step, and that my skull would crack open like a ripe watermelon on a rock. It was a lousy way to go, but at least the box would get recycled (I try to look on the bright side of things). "THIS ONE'S FOR YOU, MOTHER EARTH!" I thought but could not say aloud.
Then I regained my balance.
Which means that the score is now:
Cardboard Box: 0
Mikalatos vs. Milk Carton