003

[treefetish]

[Upon having noticed that she had somehow gained the ability to phase through solid objects, Audrey had done what any teenager would do: stick her hand through absolutely everything

This is how she ended up in front of someone's house with her arm stuck through a now-solidified mailbox. She does not look nearly as concerned as she should be.]

Comments

[micronation]

Sealand isn't responsible if your arm gets cut off when the mailbox is solid again.

[He's poking it too, though. Or poking his through it.]

[treefetish]

Sealand shouldn't worry; I'm sure it won't do it so--

[whoops there it goes

stuck up to the elbow in a mailbox

this is her life]

[micronation]

Uaaagh now you're stuck here forever! Don't lose your arm I don't want to pull it out!

[Sealand's sleeve is actually also caught in the mailbox but he hasn't really noticed yet.]

[treefetish]

It won't stay like this forever, don't worry! [and then she notices the sleeve, but she doesn't want to worry the kid... but she probably will anyway] Um, your sleeve...?

[micronation]

What if it does and-- Huh? [Well, she has at least distracted him from coming up with some awful story in which she ends up becoming Mailbox Arm Woman for the rest of her life.

But only so he can freak out and start flailing, rattling the mailbox in his panic.]

Sealand doesn't want to be Mailboxland!

[treefetish]

[OH WOW THAT ACTUALLY REALLY HURTS DON'T BREAK HER ARM]

Sealand, calm down! It's just your shirt!

[micronation]

[Sealand calms down at least enough to stop yanking on the mailbox, instead looking at it.]

...Well it still can't have my shirt. [He sounds less afraid and more grumpy.]

[treefetish]

Maybe if you ask nicely, it'll give you your shirt back.

[micronation]

But it's a mailbox. [On the other hand, it's a Mayfield mailbox. Sealand frowns at it.] Give me my shirt back! [He smacks it with his other hand to make the serious nature of this demand clear.]

[treefetish]

That... wasn't exactly "nicely," but you're halfway there!

[micronation]

[Giving her a look, giving the mailbox a look, and then trying--in a strained, childish, "fine but I'm only apologizing because you made me" sort of tone.]

Please give Sealand his sleeve back.

[treefetish]

Good!

[staring expectantly at the mailbox

come on mailbox she's trying to teach a moral here]

[micronation]

[Staring at the mailbox.

Staring.

S t a r i n g . . .]

It's not working.

[treefetish]

Um... Give it a little more time?

[micronation]

[Staring the mailbox down.] The mailbox should hurry up.

[Pause.]

Please.

[treefetish]

[Pause.

Wiggles her arm a bit.]

... Okay, I don't think politeness is going to work here, maybe.

[micronation]

We could cut the mailbox up. [That wouldn't be potentially limb-threatening at all.]

[treefetish]

Um, the mailbox is kind of mostly my arm right now, so I'm going to have to pass on that idea.

[micronation]

Well we'd cut around you arm.