Contain Yourself
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or IKEA. They belong to a lot of people who are not me, and it's unlikely that I'll ever own either one. My salary is much too small for me to even dream of ever owning a multinational corporation like IKEA.
If he could die again, he would have from happiness. In all his years of life (not to mention afterlife), the Box Ghost had never seen so many glorious boxes in one place.
He wasn't even really sure how he had ended up in this amazing warehouse of boxes. He had been lurking in a very flat box, getting ready to pop out and scare the pants off whoever was unfortunate enough to open it, but several days had passed and as far as he could tell, no one had even looked at the box. As a result, the box-loving specter was extremely bored, and decided to come out of his hiding place to see what the problem was.
But when he was free, he had to suppress a gasp. "Wh-where am I?" he asked aloud. He had never seen a place like this before- it might as well have been heaven! Boxes were everywhere! Stacked up on shelves, sitting on carts, piled up on the floor- no matter where he looked, there were lovely, lovely boxes. Oh, and people too, but they were barely registering on the Box Ghost's radar. How could they, when there were so many of his favorite things in one place.
For a while, he floated around, reveling in the sheer number of boxes. In fact, he was so wrapped up in his happiness that he didn't even notice that he was no longer invisible.
"EEEK! A ghost!" someone shrieked, noticing the overall-clad spook floating around with a dazed look on his face. "Everyone run!"
"I AM THE BOX GHOST!" he hollered. "BEWARE!" Now this really was heaven. Boxes everywhere and plenty of people to scare.
"Why would a ghost haunt a furniture store?" someone asked curiously while they were running.
"Who cares?" someone yelped. "RUN!"
Before too long, the entire warehouse was clear of people, and the box-obsessed ghost took the time to explore the area. All of the boxes were stamped with words he'd never heard before combined with the types of typical home furnishings. "Hemnes 8-drawer dresser," "Aneboda wardrobe," "Docke kitchen island."
"So it's a furniture store," the ghost whispered to himself. "But if it's a furniture store, why are the boxes so flat?" Curiously, he stuck his head into the nearest box. "This rectangular container does not have furniture in it!" he cried. "All it has is boards!"
Danny and Tucker were on their way to Sam's house when suddenly a large wave of people ran by in a panicked mob. "GHOST! IN THE IKEA!" someone screeched as they ran past.
"Ghost? Why would a ghost go there?" Tucker asked.
"Maybe it really likes sofas?" Danny suggested. "This will only take a minute." He ran off in the direction of the store, Tucker following behind, sending a text to Sam to let her know they would be a little late.
Meanwhile, the Box Ghost was having the time of his afterlife. Once he had gotten over his initial confusion as to what exactly was in all of those wonderful boxes, he began stacking, counting, moving, and levitating them. He was halfway through building a box fort when he heard a horribly familiar voice yelling at him, dampening his packaging-induced euphoria.
"Just you? And here I was thinking that I'd actually have to try!" the ghost boy sighed, taking out an even more horribly familiar cylindrical container.
In a last ditch attempt to intimidate his foe, the Box Ghost yelled, "BEWARE! FOR I AM THE BOX GHOST!" The ghost boy took the top off the thermos and pointed it at the other ghost.
Crud.
END