Boxman: Fantasy

When the little boxman saw that spring had come, he hopped out of his nest of old packing materials and danced into the sunlight, his brown cardboard top bobbling from side to side as he took in the glories of the day with cutout eyes that would always, always look sad. The boxman danced, bobbing between dandelions and jumping over irises. It was spring, and he had always liked spring, even before he became incarnate in a boxman. He had been rather surprised to find himself there. He was used to the king sheaf, or the mandrake manikin, or even. . . .


Inspiration: http://www.flickr.com/photos/blickwinkelfoto/6987020239/
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: So low.